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BY THE BROTHERS MAYHEM’, 

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AUTHORS OF “ THE GOOD GENIUS THAT TURNED EVERY THING INTO .GOLD, 

“the magic of kindness,” “the image of his FATHER,” &C. 

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HARPER Sc BROTHERS, PUBLISHERS, 

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CHAPTER I. 

“ Tien ! seulement une sole frite ! C^est hienkeurmx, ma di^e, que 
je rCai pas demande de Tries amis a diner. Tu auras du me le dire 
ce inatin.” 

Mr. Wellesley Nicholls always made it a point of speaking to his 
wife in French upon such subjects as he did not wish to come to the 
servants’ ears ; and, upon this occasion, owing to the presence of the 
page-boy Parker, who, in his white cotton gloves, stood at the side-board, 
waiting at their early three o’clock dinner, Mr. Wellesley Nicholls 
translated into that language the feelings he experienced on lifting up 
the coyer before him, and finding only a fried sole, which he knew to be 
the usual family apology for cold meat. 

Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls, not being so expert a hnguist as her hus- 
band, objected to argue the point in a foreign tongue ; so answering sim- 
ply “ Owi,” she told the page to pull down the blinds, and that he need 
not stop, as she would ring when he was wanted ; and that, if any one 
called, they had gone for a drive in the Park. 

The boy left, and she proceeded : “As for telling you, my dear, that 
we should only have a make-up dinner to-day, why, of course, I thought 
you would recollect we were going to the Chief Baron’s to-night, and I 
never dreamt that you would be so foolish as to bring any body home 
with you. Besides, surely cold meat ought to be good enough for us, 
when we are by ourselves.” 

“ My dear Sara,” answered Wellesley, “ I’m not grumbling about the 
cold meat, only I can’t be expected to carry all these arrangements in 
my head, and you should have told me, my love ; for suppose I had 
brought any one home, now, how pretty it would have looked !” 

“As for that,” returned Sara, “we might have said it was lunch. 

3 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD} OR, 


But I should have had to take all my hair out, and a pretty figure I 
should have looked by the time we got to the Chief Baron’s. I never 
knew any one so thoughtless as you, Wellesley, de 9 ,r.” 

Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls had the misfortune to be what is called a 
showy woman — that is to say, she was tall and stoutish, of a dark com- 
plexion, and had a well-rounded shoulder, which her husband loved at 
evening parties to behold in contrast with a black velvet dress ; and, 
moreover, she was unlucky enough to be blessed with a remarkably fine 
head of black hair : so that, for the satisfaction of allowing her friends 
to see her ringlets twisting nearly down to her waist, she passed the bet- 
ter part of her existence in curl-papers ; in which, indeed, she would 
have fainted to have been discovered. 

This fine head of hair and that well-rounded shoulder — now nearly 
ten years ago — had won the heart of Mr. Wellesley Nicholls, a young 
barrister, with an allowance — till his profession enabled him to dispense 
with it — of <£500 a year from his father. Sir Giles Nicholls, who held a 
lucrative government situation at Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and had been 
knighted, owing to the lucky accident of his having, as mayor of that 
town, been called upon to present some “ humble and loyal address” to 
the king at some particular period. As the only son and heir of the 
knight, Mr. Wellesley Nicholls thought it his duty to uphold the dig- 
nity of the family in as noble and fashionable a manner as he could : 
and, though his friendly briefs and motions-of-course only enabled him 
to defray his clerk’s wages and rent of chambers ; yet the showy charms 
of his wife, and the paternal title, had induced him to keep up an 
establishment, and launch out into parties, in a style that had long ago 
made his friends set him down as a man of at least treble as much as 
his income really was. 

Indeed, the main object of Mr. Wellesley Nicholls’s life was to be con- 
sidered by what he called “the world” as a much richer, nobler, and 
worthier man than he had any pretensions to be. His whole life was 
one round of schemes and tricks to gain the applause of “the world.” 
He furnished his house, not for himself, but for “ the world ;” he kept ser- 
vants for “the world;” he clothed himself, his wife, and children, for 
“the world.” He gave Champagne parties for the praise of “the 
world,” and stinted himself, when at home, in fear of it. He had 
married his showy wife to gain the admiration of “ the world,” and had 
cut her humble relations through the dread of its sneers. He was pub- 
licly generous and charitable, while, secretly, he was mean, false, and 
unjust. He was ever trying to plate truth with appearances. In a 
word, he lived and lied for “ the world,” and “ the world” returned it by 
laughing at him for his pains. And to-day Mr. Wellesley Nicholls has 
drawn down the blinds for fear that “ the world” might como and look 
in at the windows, to inquire what he was eating for dinner. 

While they were still busy with their solitary fried sole, they were 
alarmed by a double knock at the door. 

“There, now! Who can that be?” exclaimed Mrs. Wellesley 
Nicholls. “ But it is always the case : if you happen to have a dinner 

4 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


you’re at all ashamed of, half a dozen people are sure to call. Try if 
you can see who it is, Wellesley.” 

Mr, Nicholls accordingly advanced to the window, and, pulling the 
blind cautiously aside, endeavored to command a complete view of the 
door-step, hut in vain ; while Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls, when she heard 
the page coming up, opened the parlor door a little way, as gently as 
she could, and said in a whisper, “ Hush — sh — sh ! Mind, Parker, 
we’re gone out for a drive in the Park and then, closing it, she stood 
listening at it, begging her husband, for goodness’ sake, not to make 
any noise. 



“ Hush— sh — sh ! Mind, Parker, we’re gone for a drive in the Park !” 

All that Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls was able to catch, however, was the 
sound of the door closing and of footsteps ascending the stairs, until, at 
length, she plainly heard them treading overhead. 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


“Why, I declare, if he hasn’t shown them up into the drawing- 
room !” then cried the horror-stricken Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls. “ That 
boy must be half foolish ! I thought we should never be able to keep 
him long. You must go up, my dear. I wouldn’t be seen in these 
papers for I don’t know what,” she added, with a sly glance at the look- 
ing-glass. 

“ It’s impossible, Sara ; I really can’t go up, smelling of fish and porter 
as I must. It’s impossible ; I really can’t.” 

At this juncture the page Parker entered. 

“ I thought your mistress told you we had gone out for a drive in the 
Park ?” began Mr. Wellesley Nicholls. 

“ I told the gentleman so, sir,” answered the boy ; “ but he said he 
would step in, and wait till you came back, sir.” 

“ Did he give you any card ?” asked Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls. 

“No, ma’am. He said the name wasn’t of any consequence,” re- 
turned the boy. 

“ What kind of a looking gentleman is he ?” inquired Mr. Wellesley 
Nicholls. 

“He a’nt exactly a gentleman, sir,” replied the page; “he’s a country- 
fied, farmer-looking person, in top-boots, if you please, sir. He asked to 
see missus, sir.” 

Est-ce que vous connaissez quelqu'un comme celui-laV' asked Mr. 
Wellesley Nicholls of Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls. 

“ That will do, Parker ; you can go,” said Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls, 
avoiding a reply in French. And when Parker had gone, she added in 
a low voice, “ The only person I can imagine it to be is the butcher, my 
dear.” 

“ The butcher !” echoed Mr. Wellesley Nicholls. “ Impossible, my 
dear. He could never have the impudence to come with a double 
knock to my door.” And remembering that his father was a knight, he 
jerked his head back with becoming dignity. 

“ There’s no answering for the airs that tradesmen give themselves 
nowadays,” returned Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls. He’s been after his 
money two or three times before, and behaved very insolently ; only I 
didn’t like to annoy you, my dear, by telling you of it at the time.” 

“ Ah ! but you should, my love !” peevishly replied Mr. Wellesley 
Nicholls, “ you should. You forget I’ve my pecuniary arrangements to 
make, and you see the difficulties you get me into now, by keeping the 
applications of these people from me. For I don’t like, my dear, to over- 
draw my account atjhe banker’s, and I’m sure my balance there at 
present is not large enough to pay him. You must go up yourself, 
Sara, and get him to wait until the next quarter comes round. For I 
know, if I go, I shall get knocking the fellow down, and it’s better to 
avoid such scenes before the servants.” 

Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls prepared to comply with her husband’s re- 
quest, by arranging her cap in the glass, and then went up stairs, plan- 
ning to herself what excuse she could make. 

When she entered the room her annoyance was in no way relieved 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


on finding that the supposed butcher was none other than her only- 
brother, Farmer Reuben Marsh, of Famham, Surrey. Not that she 
had any dislike to her brother : indeed, it would have been strange if 
she had ; for it was he who had supported her after her father’s death, 
and who had cheerfully shared with her the few comforts of his home 
at a time when, owing to the embarrassed state of the family affairs, 
Reuben had found it difficult to keep the farm in his hands. But his 
manners and habits were so much at variance with those of the circle 
in which his sister now moved, that she and her husband were in con- 
stant dread lest it should be known that the fashionable Mr. and Mrs. 
Wellesley Nicholls were in any way akin to the unpolished Reuben 
Marsh. 

“ What, Reuben! is it you, dear? Oh, I am so glad to see you!” 
she cried, running up to him. “Well, this is an unexpected pleasure, 
to be sure,” and she kissed him in a manner that showed that she no 
longer relished the rustic perfume of the farm-yard that hung about his 
clothes. 

“ Ah ! I knew my plump sister Sally would be glad to see a body 
again — I knew thee would, girl,” answered Reuben, returning his sister’s 
embrace with such hearty warmth that the little lace cap she had pinned 
on to the back of her head fell on the carpet. “ Why, thee beest twice 
as buxom, Sally, as when I see’d thee afore, at the time I was up in 
London for the cattle show, now five year ago, that it be. Well, I 
thought I’d take thee by surprise, gal. But that boy of yours all over 
buttons, as if theed fastened his jacket on with brass-headed nails like, 
said theed gone for a drive in the Park, and thee wast at home, after 
all. Why, what a lying young rogue he be, to be sure !” 

“ He didn’t know you, Reuben, and we are out to all visitors to-day,” 
answered Mrs. Nicholls. 

“ What ! out when thee beest at home, Sally ?” exclaimed her 
brother. 

“No, but you don’t understand these things, Reuben,” she replied. 
“ It’s the fashion, when you don’t want to see any of your friends, to say 
that you are out. They know what one means.” 

“ Then, if thy friends know thee beest lying, gal, what a fool thee 
must be not to tell the truth. And pretty friends they must be, too, 
that thee don’t care to see ! Ah, Sally, Sally, when thee wast at Farn- 
ham, thee’dst always a bite and a sup for thy friends, instead of an un- 
truth to turn them from the door with.” 

“ Yes, but, Reuben, suppose you’re not dressed to receive company,” 
she continued. 

“ Why, then, dang it !” answered Reuben, “ can’t thee ask the folk to 
sit down while thee goest and cleanest thyself, as thee hast done, gal, 
many a time and oft before now ?” 

“ Yes, but in London, Reuben,” she added, “ we can’t do as you can 
in the country. You see, one’s friends judge so from appearances here.” 

“ ’Pearances ! Yes, I know, you mean the look of the thing, like,” 
returned Reuben. “ Now, I’ll tell thee what it be, Sally. T’other day. 

7 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


I went to Farmer Griffiths — him as bought our black cow the year afore 
you left us : well, I seed on the table in their best parlor, you know, a 
beautiful orange — quite a pictur’ it was, with such a beautiful gold coat 
of his own, surely ! The old gentleman seed me looking at it, and 
says he, ‘ Will you have an orange, Reuben V ‘ Thank you,’ says I, ‘I 
don’t know as I won’t, if I been’t a robbing on you.’ So I takes it up, 
and when I comes to try it, dang’d if I didn’t nearly break a tooth. 
You’ll laugh, like the old gentleman did, when I tell you, for, bless you, 
it warn’t nothing but stone ! So, that’s what comes, you see, of trusting 
to ’pearances. Now, listen to me, Sally, if thee goest choosing thy 
friends by the fine looks of the cloth of their coats, they’ll serve thee as 
the orange did thy brother Reuben ; for, when thee comest to try them, 
thee’lt find them nothing but stone, after all. So, look about thee, gal ! 
look about thee !” 

“Yes, yes, I understand,” answered Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls, growing 
fidgety at her brother’s lengthened visit, and fearing every minute that 
he would be asking to see her husband. “ Well, now, dear Reuben, that 
you are here, I hope you’re come to stop. Wellesley would so like to 
see you when he comes home.” 

“ Oh, then, he’s out too, eh ?” replied Reuben. “ Ah, I know what 
you mean now. It’s the fashion, as thee said, when thee doesn’t want 
to see thy friends, to say thee’rt out. I am getting quite a London man, 
you see, Sally.” 

“ Why, what a strange person you’re grown, Reuben,” remarked Mrs. 
Wellesley Nicholls. “ You vMl take every thing wrongly. Now, do 
let me order something for you, if it’s only a glass of wine and a biscuit.” 

“No, thank thee, Sally, girl,” returned Reuben. “ You see, I passed 
my word to dine at the Black Ram with neighbor Williams, as stood 
godfather, you know, to my little Tommy. And, to tell thee the truth, 
I should not be much at my ease here, for I be quite afraid to move for 
the crockery and things.” 

“ Oh, you needn’t be frightened of that, Reuben,” answered Mrs. 
Wellesley Nicholls, “ for we don’t take our meals in this room.” 

“ Ah, then, thee beest frightened to use it thyself, eh ?” returned 
Teuben. “ Well, Sally, it be plaguey fine, gal, sartinly. They say a 
body had better not spile the ship for a hap’orth of tar ; but I be afraid, 
lass, thee beest a-spihng her here with too much on’t. And look thee, 
Sally,” he continued, lifting up the brown holland covering to the otto- 
man on which he was seated, “ where be the use of these grand satin 
covers, if thee beest obhged to hide them under these here pinafores, 
eh?” 

“ You see they are too good for every-day use, Reuben,” answered 
Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls, “ and so we keep them covered up ; that is 
what is called a housewife’s prudence.” • 

“ Well, but it seems a queer kind of prudence,” he returned, “ to have 
two covers to do the work of one. I always thought that was what 
folks meant by extravagance.” 

“Yes, but don’t you see, Reuben,” she continued, “the one is for 

8 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


every-day use, as I said before, and the other for grand occasions — when 
our friends come.” 

“ Then London folks must be very generous people,” replied her broth- 
er, “to put themselves to so much expense for their friends. Why, 
they told me London were a wicked place, but I find it be quite another 
sort of a thing. Yes, I be sure on it now ; because afore thee came up, 
Sally, I were a-looking at this book here about the Orphans’ Asylum, 
and I see thee hast given the poor babes five guineas for these four years 
past ; but thee spells thy name without e’er an ‘ h’ now Sally ; what be 
that for ?” 

“Oh, that’s only one of Wellesley’s fancies,” she answered, smiling, 
while inwardly she writhed under her brother’s rude sarcasms. But you 
surely can’t be going to find fault with my subscribing to the Orphans’ 
Asylum !” 

“ No, Sally, gal, I be main glad to see thee do it, and find that after 
thee has done so much here for thy friends, thee hast got summit left 
for the poor fatherless things ; though it strikes me I should have loved 
thee better, gal, if, among all thy charity, thee hadst offered to help a 
body with even a pound or two toward poor father’s debts. I’ve had a 
hard time on it, Sally, to pay them all ; but*, though I would not have 
taken your husband’s money, yet I should have blessed both of ye for doing 
all ye could for the honor of the poor old man when he were dead and 
gone. It were a deuce of a struggle, Sally, but I ha’ got through it all 
now, thank goodness, and paid the last three-and-twenty pounds two 
years come Michaelmas ; so that thee needn’t be* ashamed of thy rela- 
tions now, Sally, thee needn’t.” 

“ Well, but Reuben,” she said, kissing him, “ I am sure I was never 
ashamed of my relations. But calm yourself, and don’t talk so loud, 
there’s a good brother, for I know you wouldn’t like the servants to hear 
all about dear father’s difficulties.” 

“ No, sister Sally, not for the poor old man’s sake, I wouldn’t. Now, 
listen to me, dear,” he continued, taking her hand ; “ maybe, I’ve been 
rough and hard with thee, but I was angered, gal. When thee lived 
with I and Molly, at Farnham, thee wast a different lass. Then thee 
spoke as thee thought, and thee loved thy brother as much as he loved 
thee, and thee were proud on him for all he had battled through, and 
used to tell my Molly there wern’t a squire round to be put beside him. 
And when Counselor Nicholls asked me to gie thee to him, though I 
felt loth to part with thee, Sally girl, yet I thought ye loved one an- 
other ; and as he had twice the means that I had to make thee happy, 
I gave thee away to him, and that’s now near upon ten years ago. And 
since then I’ve seed thee three times, and each of them were of my own 
seeking ; and thy husband but once, and thy little ones ne’er a once at 
all.” 

“Yes, but, dear Reuben,” she answered, with downcast eyes, not 
liking to look him in the face, “ you know when you called you would 
never stay till they could be brought down to you.” 

“ No, Sally, girl, I never were at my ease in thy house yet,” he add- 

9 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


ed, “ for thee always put thy brother in a grand, gilt, cold room by 
himself, and thee wast a quarter of an hour before thee came to him, 
and then thee seemed so stuck up like, that I were almost freezed when 
I kissed thee ; and though my Molly always sent thee the fattest of the 
turkeys and good things at Christmas-tide, yet thy letters were only full 
of thanks, and never said a word about coming to see a body.’^ 

“ Yes ; but you forget, Reuben,” she interrupted, while a tear trickled 
down her cheeks, “my husband’s business always keeps him in London.” 

“Well, Sally, girl,” he continued, kissing her, “I’m glad to hear it ; 
I feared it were otherwise. But even now, when I come to see thee, 
thee meet me with a lie on thy door-step, and set me in a room with 
ruin written in gilt letters all about it, and covered over with a fine 
carpet that I be afeard to put my hobnails upon ; so that a body can’t 
help thinking how long it will be before I see it with an auction bill on 
it, hanging out of the window. T)iere ! thee needn’t start, girl : they 
be hard words to fling at thee, but they be the truest and the kindest 
meant, thee’st heard these ten years ; for I know what £500 a year can 
do better than thee canst. Tell me, Sally, and I’m as sartain sure as 
if I seed the bills, that more than half those gewgaws be not paid for ; 
and that thee beest like the play-actors, dressed in a lot of finery that 
don’t belong to thee.” 

“ Mr. NichoUs, Reuben, will attend to his own affairs,” she answered, 
rising ; “ and perhaps it would be better if other people followed his ex- 
ample.” 

“ Ah ! I know what thee meanst,” he continued ; “ but I’ve reproached 
myself for not warning thee many a year before ; for, depend on it, no 
good will come on it, gal. Ah ! poor Sally, Sally, thee’st got a bitter 
winter to go through, and may be that thee’lt be glad to come down 
then to see thy brother. There ! there I come, give us thy hand, gal, 
for Reuben, though he do say it, be the best friend thee’st got in the 
world ; so don’t let us part otherwise.” 

Kissing her even more fondly and rudely than when he entered, he 
left the room; while Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls haughtily rang the bell for 
the page to usher her brother out ; and then, sinking on a sofa, the 
storm that she had kept suppressed within her burst out, and she sobbed 
as though she still had a heart to break. 

10 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


CHAPTER II. 

Mr. Wellesley Nicholls — who, during the preceding scene in the 
drawing-room, had been vainly endeavoring, in the parlor, to interest 
himself with “ the niorning paper,” while his whole attention was fixed 
upon the angry tone of the visitor’s voice overhead — felt considerably 
relieved when he heard the bell ring to announce the intruder’s depart- 
ure, and the street-door slam to, in confirmation of it. And then Mr. 
Nicholls became excessively impatient to learn what arrangement his 
wife had come to with the supposed butcher ; but, finding she did not 
come down, and not hearing her move about, he grew alarmed, and ran 
up-stairs to inquire into the matter. 

He was surprised to find his wife in tears ; and, taking her hand, said, 
in a tender voice, “ Why, Sara, my love, what is the meaning of all 
this ? Has that scoundrel been insulting you ? Why not have called 
me, eh ?” 

“ It was not the butcher,” answered Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls, from 
beneath her handkerchief; “ it was my brother Reuben ; and he’s been 
going on in such a dreadful way at every thing in the house. He said 
we were going to rack and ruin.” 

“ Your brother Reuben, was it ? And he said we were going to rack 
and ruin, did he ?” returned Mr. Wellesley Nicholls, between his teeth. 
“ Very like a brother, indeed. And, even if we were, I should like to 
know what the deuce Mr. Reuben Marsh has got to do with it?” 

“ And so I said to him ; and he went away in a passion,” replied 
Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls. 

“ Perhaps it would be better if he stopped in the country, along with 
his pigs. What does he want prying here ?” inquired Mr. Wellesley 
Nicholls, indignantly. “ If he knew any thing of society, he might have 
seen, from our never returning his visits, that we didn’t wish to have 
any thing to do with him.” 

“ He said you had always avoided him,” continued the sobbing Mrs. 
Wellesley Nicholls. “ He seems to be dreadfully altered of late. I 
declare he did nothing but find fault from the very moment he came in.” 

“Of course, the boor did,” continued Mr. Nicholls. “He’d have 
been smooth-faced enough to me, though. I’ll be bound. I suppose you 
objected to let him spit in the bright stove, or he wanted to smoke his 
clay pipe up here — eh ? A low, beer-drinking, chaw-bacon farmer ! 
It’s no reason, because I made you my wife, that I should be obliged to 
marry the whole family. And he shall see that I won’t, either ; for I’ll 
take good care that he never sets foot in my house again.” 

“ You are forgetting yourself, Wellesley,” exclaimed Mrs. Nicholls, 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


angrily, at the same time rising and shutting the door which her hus- 
band had left ajar. “ My brother Reuben may be plain-spoken ; but 
he is not low, nor is he a chaw-bacon. And, even supposing he were, I 
do not ur ,k that it exactly becomes his sister’s husband to publish it to 
all viie servants. Besides, his greatest enemy could not say that he 
doesn’t mean well.” 

“ Means well !” exclaimed Mr. Wellesley Nicholls : “ certainly, and 
so does your wild Indian savage when he-a — when he-a — but no matter ; 
we had better change the subject, my dear. Of course, your brother 
Reuben, having been bred in the country, can know nothing of London 
life ; and when he comes up here from his humble fire-side, and sees a 
house elegantly furnished, I dare say it does strike him as extravagance. 
But you know, as well as I do, my dear, that, from the position we hold 
in society, there is not a single article here that we could dispense with ; 
and that these looking-glasses, and ottomans, and tables, and china 
ornaments, and what not, are as necessary to us, in our station, as his 
ploughs, and carts, and horses are to him.” 

“ Of course they are, Wellesley, dear,” answered Mrs. Nicholls. “ And, 
besides, I should like to know how Reuben can tell whether we can 
afford it nor not.” 

“Yes, my dear, it’s the way of the vulgar world,” replied her hus- 
band, with a look of disgust. “ People always will know more about 
your own affairs than you do yourself. Now, you are as well aware as 
I am, that our greatest, indeed our only serious expense, has been our 
furnishing ; and, thank goodness, we have got as elegant a house over 
our heads as any of our acquaintances ; and, what is more, I am proud 
to say it is nearly all paid for. How we have done it, I can’t imagine. 
It seems almost like a dream to me. But this I will say, Sara, my 
love, that, if it had not been for your excellent management and rigid 
economy, I don’t supppose I should have been here at this moment. 
But the struggle is over, thank Heaven, and we have now only got to 
retrench, and cut down every little expense at home that we can pos- 
sibly do without, to clear off the few remaining debts that are hanging 
over our heads.” 

“Yes, Wellesley, my dear, I am sure I will do every thing in my 
power,” answered Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls ; “ though at present I cer- 
tainly do not see how the housekeeping expenses can be reduced.” 

“Nor I, my sweetest. Understand me, Sara, my love, I am not find- 
ing fault,” continued Mr. Wellesley Nicholls. “ You are a wonderful 
woman, and deserve the highest credit ; for I am sure the table you have 
managed to keep upon the small allowance you have had is perfectly ex- 
traordinary. Indeed, people, my dear, imagine, from the style we live 
in, that I am a man of more than a thousand a year. But when I speak 
of retrenchment, my love, I only mean that we must not give so many 
parties, and not invite a set of people whose houses we never set foot 
into. For I can assure you, Sara, no one can imagine my state of mind 
when I thought I heard the butcher abusing you for his money ; and, 
to tell you the truth, I made a vow that I never would expose myself 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


to the same indignity again ; and never incur a debt, however small it 
might be, without having the money to discharge it — or first seeing my 
way clear, which is the same thing, you know.” 

It’s the best plan, you may depend upon it, Wellesley,” returned 
Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls. 

“ You’re quite right, my poppit,” continued Mr. Nicholls ; “ for I’ve 
been casting up every thing in my mind, and I find that it will take 
exactly three quarters of my father’s. Sir Giles’s, allowance to put us all 
straight and comfortable again. So, dry up your tears,” he added, seat- 
ing himself by her side on the sofa, and kissing her, “ and bathe your 
eyes with some eau de Cologne, there’s an angel, or you won’t be fit to 
be seen to-night, I declare. Come, now, I have got a little surprise 
for you, something that is sure to put you in a good humor.” 

“ Now, Wellesley, love,” expostulated Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls, with 
a smile, “ after all you have been saying, I hope you have not been run- 
ning into any fresh expense by buying me a new dress. It would be so 
foolish of you, for I’m sure I don’t want it.” 

“ No, my dear,” answered the husband ; “ your black velvet is quite 
good enough. You know you’ve only worn it three times, or four at the 
most ; and that would be extravagance, if you like. But you see, Sara, 
I’ve long wanted to get into the Chief Baron’s set — it’s such a passport 
to one ; and you know, my darling, my chief pride has always been to 
hear you acknowledged to be, wherever you went, the best dressed per- 
son in the room — and diamonds do give such style to a woman ; and, 
with your black velvet dress, they would look positively superb. So I’ve 
ordered the jeweler to come here about six, and show you some.” 

“ Really, Wellesley, dear, you should think of what you are doing,” 
Mrs. Nicholls returned, kissing him. “ It seems unkind to refuse you, 
but you know we can not afford it ; and I am sure my aqua-marines 
would do very well. It is so imprudent of you, darling. You let your 
affection lead you astray.” 

“ You see, my poppit, you don’t understand these things,” replied 
Mr. Wellesley Nicholls. “ Diamonds, although they are the dearest 
articles you can buy, are really the least expensive in the end. It is 
merely an investment of capital ; for they are things that never wear 
out, and are always worth their money. And aqua-marines, to say the 
truth, don’t become you. A fine woman like you, Sara, requires some- 
thing more rich and distingue” 

“ Lor, Wellesley, how can you go on so 1 And perhaps the jeweler 
would make some allowance for the aqua-marines,” suggested Mrs. Wel- 
lesley Nicholls. 

“ Why, I think you had better keep them, my dear; they will always 
come in handy, you know, for minor occasions. At first, I thought of 
hiring you a suite for the night, Sara ; but, on second thoughts, I couldn’t 
bear the idea of your going about in borrowed plumes ; and I knew the 
jeweler wouldn’t bother me for the money ; indeed, my father has dealt 
with him for years ; so that you see, my love, there’s no occasion for 
you to alarm yourself about the expense.” 

13 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD} OR, 


“ Go along with you, Wellesley. You’re a foolish, good-natured, ex- 
travagant rogue of a husband, that you are,” said Mrs. Wellesley 
Nicholls. “ I declare there’s no use talking to you. You were made 
for a barrister ; you can persuade any one to do any thing.” 

“ Oh, by-the-by,” suddenly exclaimed Mr. Wellesley Nicholls, “ I for- 
got to tell you Lively Harry’s coming here to-night.” 

“ What, Mr. Harry Chandos ]” inquired Mrs. Nicholls. 

“ Yes, my love,” answered her husband ; “I met him to-day in the 
Temple, and he told me he was going to the Baron’s to-night, but that 
he had to be at a dinner-party first in Sussex- terrace. So I asked him, 
as he would be in the neighborhood, if he would take a seat in our 
brougham, and he said he would be with us about eleven o’clock.” 

“ I declare that man goes every where,” exclaimed Mrs. Wellesley 
Nicholls ; “ I don’t think I ever went to a party without meeting him. 
He certainly is a very agreeable man ; he knows every body and every 
thing, and always has such a deal to say for himself I suppose that’s 
why you call him Lively, Wellesley ?” 

“It’s a nickname his friends have given him, my dear,” answered Mr. 
Nicholls ; “ he certainly has got into very good society, and how the deuce 
he has managed it I can’t tell ; I fancy it’s the nice pleasant way the 
fellow has got of his own.” 

“Do you know what he is, Wellesley, dear ?” inquired Mrs. Nicholls. 

“ Why, a gentleman, I suppose,” answered her husband. 

“ Yes, but how does he five, that is, what property has he got ?” con- 
tinued the lady. 

“Really, I don’t know, my dear,” replied Mr. Wellesley Nicholls; 
“ that’s his affair, not mine.” 

“But, I mean, what was his father]” asked the lady. 

“ Why, I never heard him speak of him,” returned Mr. Wellesley 
Nicholls. “ But Harry will be here to night, my love, and then you can 
ask him all about it.” 

“ My dear Wellesley,” exclaimed the lady, indignantly, “ how can 
you think I could do such a thing ? Only it is so strange, isn’t it ; he’s 
every where, yet nobody knows any thing about him. I never even 
heard where he lives yet.” 

“ No, nor any one else, Sara,” answered Mr. Nicholls. “ He has all 
his letters addressed to his club ; and he’s a very agreeable, honorable, 
and good-natured fellow, and people don’t trouble their heads any fur- 
ther about him.” 

And so it was. Mr. Henry Chandos — or Lively Harry, as he was 
called — was one of the many human mysteries so frequently met with in 
London : in fact, he was one of the fashionable peripatetics, known as 
men about town. He was neither good nor ill-looking, nor dashing, nor 
witty ; but he had a good set of teeth, and consequently was always 
smiling, which made people think him more good-natured than he really 
was. He played billiards well, and was a good hand at cards — though, 
to do him justice, he did not make a practice of either. He was what 
the ladies called a “quiz,” and possessed a large fund of “ small talk,” 

14 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


which he told in so rattling and pleasant a manner, that many of his 
young companions considered him a wit ; for, though no diamonds fell 
from his mouth when he spoke, still he sent forth a good imitation 
“ paste,” which sparkled nearly as well. Moreover, he was just the 
fellow to keep a dinner-party in good-humor ; and he had a good figure 
for a ball-room, waltzed well, sung prettily, and was a universal favorite 
with children. He had been engaged as second in two or three “ affairs 
of honor,” and knew a number of men in the army ; had few enemies, 
and always some money in his purse. In a word, he was a good com- 
panion and a great riddle. 

Mr. and Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls had scarcely finished their conversa- 
tion about the above gentleman, when the page Parker informed them 
that a person from the jeweler’s was waiting below ; and going down, 
they found that the jeweler had sent the two diamond bracelets as order- 
ed, for Mrs. Nicholls to tell which she preferred ; and another, which was 
such “ a bargain,” that the man had brought it “just for them to look at.” 

Mrs. Nicholls thought the first very beautiful — it was only fifty 
guineas. The second was very splendid, and the stones were larger ; 
but she thought it was not so well worth eighty guineas as the first one 
was fifty. Besides, the setting was not so tasty. 

All this the jeweler’s young man admitted, adding that it was merely 
the difference in the size of the stones, and that the fifty guinea one 
certainly did look quite as good as the other ; and any one unacquainted 
with the value of brilhants would not be able to tell the difference. 
This decided Mrs. Nicholls, and she was resolved to fix upon the fifty 
guinea ' article, until the jeweler’s young man opened the red morocco 
case containing the “ bargain,” which threw both Mr. and Mrs. Welles- 
ley Nicholls into raptures of admiration. 

It was a bracelet, and brooch to match, which the jeweler assured 
the lady and gentleman he could afford to let them have “ at the exceed- 
ingly low price of one hundred and twenty guineas adding that, if the 
articles were broken up, the stones alone would be worth the money, 
only it was an old pattern, for which there was no demand at present. 

Both Mr. and Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls, although not deeply skilled in 
the market value of brilliants, were perfectly astonished at the lowness 
of the price, and agreed with the tradesman that they could never have 
been made for less than double the money. Mr. Nicholls declared that 
they were much cheaper than the fifty guinea bracelet, and thought he 
must be tempted to take them ; although he told the young man, in a 
jocular way, that his master must not blame him (Mr. Wellesley 
Nicholls) if he never got the money ; at the idea of which the young 
man laughed, and said that Mr. Nicholls’s father, Sir Giles, had dealt 
with them so long, that they would not have the least fear about their 
money, if it were ten times the amount. 

Mrs. Nicholls, seeing that her husband had set his mind upon the 
bracelet and brooch, touched his foot under the table, as if to say that 
they could not afford them ; on which Mr. Nicholls again said that they 
were so wonderfully cheap and superb, and things that you only wanted 

15 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


to buy once in a lifetime ; while the young man, seeing that Mrs. Nich- 
olls’s love of economy still made her cling to the fifty guinea ornament, 
requested permission to be allowed to try the effect of the articles on the 
lady. And when he had put them on, Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls went 
and looked at herself in the long glass between the parlor windows, 
while she twisted her arm and body about so as to make the jewels 
sparkle, and smilingly confessed that they eertainly did look very hand- 
some. Her husband said he never, in all his life, saw diamonds become 
a woman so well ; and then he recollected that she had no brooch fit to 
match the brilliants, and that it would be impossible for her to go out 
without any ; and, besides, on her black velvet body the diamond one 
certainly would look magnificent. When the jeweler’s young man ex- 
pressed a similar opinion, Mr. Nicholls, despite the black looks of his 
dear Sara, decided upon having the “bargain,” and the young man 
packed up the two which had been selected in the morning, and took 
his departure. 

By eleven o’clock Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls was dressed, and looking 
as handsome as her long ringlets, and black velvet dress, and the dia- 
monds could make her ; and her husband passed the time while they 
were awaiting the arrival of “Lively Harry” in making her walk up 
and down the parlor, while he observed the effect, and declared that he 
felt quite proud of her appearance, and that she looked much younger 
than when he had married her. 

Presently the brougham which they had hired for the night came to 
the door, and Mr. Nicholls told the boy Parker to see that the lamps 
were alight, and Mrs. Nicholls hoped that the coachman looked respect- 
able, for that last time she went in the Park any body might have told, 
from the man’s appearance, that the conveyance was hired. 

It was not long before Mr. “ Lively Harry” made his appearance ; 
and having stated that it would never do to go to the Chief Baron’s for 
the next half hour, commenced giving Mr. and Mrs. Nicholls a graphic 
description of his dinner party, with a lot of Indian people who had lost 
their livers and their tempers ; next he talked of all the people he had 
met in the Park that day, and told Mrs. Nicholls a fittle bit of scandal 
that was going the round of the clubs. Then he gave them a funny 
description of the last new sentimental novel, and amused Nicholls with 
the details of a splendid three hours’ run he had had with the Surrey 
hounds. He favored them with a list of all the fashionable marriages 
that were on the and confided to Mr. Nicholls the name of the 

horse that he had heard was to win the next Derby ; then he told them 
how extraordinary dull Brighton was, and informed them of the latest 
discoveries made by Lord Rosse’s telescope ; and also of a large failure 
in the city, which he had heard of that day ; and a well authenticated 
anecdote of the Prince of Wales ; and then one of a common railway 
navy, in the north, who had suddenly come into an immense fortune ; 
and, moreover, he communicated to them a list of all the company that 
were to appear at the Opera next season. Whereupon he said, “ By- 
the-by, Nicholls, talking of the Opera, you know Lady Verulam, don’t 

16 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


you? Her daughter married young Grigg, of the Guards, last season. 
Her town house is in May Fair. Well, I met her at Almack’s a few 



“She looked much younger than when he had married her.” 


nights hack, and an awfully dull evening we had, I can tell you : solemn 
as Exeter Hall— ha ! ha ! ha ! I don’t know whether you have ever 
ventured an oratorio there, Mrs. Nicholls. It’s very scientific and very 

gleepy ha! ha! ha! Well, to return to Lady Verulam. She’s not 

exactly a Crcesus in petticoats, you see ; and is, unfortunately for her- 
self, afflicted with a strong penchant for the Opera, having got a brace 
of daughters to marry ; and I’m afraid the girls, Mrs. Nicholls, love 
her so much that they’ll never leave her — ^ha! ha! Well, she’s taken 
a box there for next season— a snug one for her ladyship to sleep in ; and 
as she only wants it on the Saturday nights, she asked me if I knew 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


any body that would be likely to take it for the Tuesdays. It’s not 
dear : ninety pounds — a mere song for the Opera — ha ! ha ! ha ! — so as 
I thought it would be just the thing for Mrs. Nicholls and yourself, I 
gave her your address and a card of mine as an introduction, and she’s 
going to call to-morrow or the next day.” 

“ Its very good of you, Harry,” answered Nicholls, “ and I’m sure 
my wife would be delighted ; only, to tell you the truth, Mrs. Nicholls 
doesn’t like the Tuesday nights.” 

“ Oh, if that’s all, I’ll warrant the old dowager wouldn’t stand out 
about that ; or, I dare say, she’d agree for you to have it one Saturday, 
and she the other. You leave me to settle the matter. I know her lady- 
ship’s weak side. If I was you, Mrs. Nicholls, I wouldn’t allow my 
husband to keep me locked up here all my life.” 

“ I’m sure we are very much obliged to you, Mr. Chandos, for think- 
ing of us,” replied Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls, with a smile ; while she 
inwardly shuddered at the idea of being forced by his officiousness into 
the extra expense of an opera-box. 

“Not at all, not at all : I knew it would just suit you — it gives one 
such a standing in society, you know, Nicholls. But hadn’t we better 
be en route, eh ? It’s nearly twelve, by Jupiter. Allow me to help 
you on with your shawl, and cover up those charming brilliants of yours, 
for I declare they have quite made my eyes ache looking at them.” 

“ Ah, ah, ah !” affectedly laughed Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls. “ Do 
you like them, Mr. Chandos I” 

“ They are very chaste,” he replied ; “chaste as an angel’s tears, or, 
what is the same thing, your own, Mrs. Nicholls. Do you hear what 
I’m saying to your wife, Nicholls, eh ?” 

“ Yes, I hear you, Harry. Go on ; don’t mind me,” answered Mr. 
Wellesley Nicholls. 

“ The setting is not of the newest pattern, it is true,” continued Mrs. 
Wellesley, anxious to return to the subject of the diamonds. 

“ The fact is,” quickly added her husband, “ they are some of her 
poor dear mother’s, and on that account we don’t like to have the set- 
ting altered. They have been in the family so long.” 

“ Certainly ; very right — shows feeling, and that’s better than fashion, 
any day,” answered Lively Harry. 

While Nicholls was directing Parker to see if the brougham was 
at the door, the agreeable Mr. Chandos showed Mrs. Nicholls a new 
glove button, the last French invention, which a friend of his had just 
brought over from Paris ; and then requesting her acceptance of the 
trifle, he took her arm and led her to the brougham. 

When Parker asked “ Where to ?” Lively Harry shouted out, loud 
enough for the neighbors to have heard him, “ To the Lord Chief 
Baron’s.” And Mr. and Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls felt supremely happy ; 
though all the way there Chandos had the talk entirely to himself, for they 
were each of them busy thinking what excuse they could make to Lady 
Yerulam, when she caUed on them about the opera-box. Of one thing, 
however, they felt convinced — that they must not dream of taking it. 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


CHAPTER III. 

It was nearly one o’clock before Mr. and Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls 
came down to breakfast in the morning after the Chief Baron’s party, 
and then the conversation turned upon the pleasant evening they had 
spent ; and they paid agreeable compliments to one another about the 
effect they had created on entering the drawing-room, and what they 
had by accident overheard strangers say of each other. 

Wellesley declared that, while he was dancing with the Hon. Miss 
Trelawney, she asked him who that stylish lady in black velvet, with 
long ringlets and the diamond brooch, was ; and whether he didn’t 
think her a remarkably fine woman : at which Mrs. Nicholls simpered, 
and told Wellesley that at supper- time she was seated by a lady, who 
inquired if she knew the name of the quiet, gentlemanly young man 
who was standing behind Mrs. Bosanquet. And then Mr. Nicholls 
told Mrs. Nicholls that he had never felt so proud of her in all his life : 
that really her appearance was so distingue, and every thing she had 
about her was so good and rich, and the diamonds were so thoroughly 
in keeping with her tout ensemble, that he couldn’t help saying to' him- 
self that there wasn’t a lady of title in the room that was fit to come 
near her ; adding, that it was very lucky he had thought of buying the 
brilliants, for the impression they had created was enormous. He de- 
clared to goodness, while she was sitting on the sofa in the back draw- 
ing-room, before they went down to supper, he saw an old dowager 
with her eyes fixed upon them for a quarter of an hour at least. Mrs. 
Wellesley, in the fullness of her heart, could not at that moment help 
tapping her husband’s hand playfully, and telling him to go along with 
him. 

After a slight pause, Mrs. Nicholls declared that she could not for 
the life of her get a wink of sleep all that* night for the thoughts of the 
opera-box. It was so very awkward just at that time, and she couldn’t 
see any way of getting out of it respectably ; for, however, pleasant it 
would be to have a box of their own there, still Wellesley knew as well 
as she did that they could not afford it. To which Mr. Nicholls assent- 
ed most heartily, saying of course they couldn’t ; and although there 
was nothing he should like better, yet they mustn’t for a moment think 
of taking it ; so they must make some good excuse or other, and get out 
of it as well as they could. Whereupon Mrs. Nicholls inquired what 
excuse ? It would never do to go telling the truth, and letting Lady 
Verulam know that their means at present wouldn’t admit of it. Yet 
it was such a pity, she added ; for Lady Verulam was a very useful per- 
son to know, and her set was such a nice one to get into ; besides, what 

19 


V 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


on earth could she say to put her off when she called ? On which Mr. 
Nicholls told her to say — oh ! — why, say that — oh ! say any thing she 
liked. He’d leave it all to her. Whereupon Mrs. Nicholls remarked, 
that suppose she was forced to take it, then Wellesley would go making 
a noise about it. Mr. Nicholls “ thought he would too,” which con- 
vinced his dear Sara that it would be better for them both to see her 
ladyship when she came, and then Wellesley could make his own excuse, 
and take it or not, just as he pleased. 

Accordingly, when her ladyship’s heavy carriage rolled up to the 
house, and Mr. and Mrs. Nicholls saw the footman’s powdered hair, and 
the horses’ coroneted harness, they grew so proud with the idea of an 
equipage labeled “ noble” so conspicuously, as her ladyship was being 
drawn up before their door, that they felt all their prudent resolves ooze 
out as Lady Verulam came in. And when their noble visitor began to 
dilate in the drawing-room on the beauties of the Opera, and point out 
how necessary it was to the existence of a person of “ confessing 
that for herself she was sure she should never be able to get through a 
season without it, the sapient Mr. Nicholls found himself precisely of 
the same way of thinking ; and declared that one met none but the best 
of the land there, and all the people one cared about, and vowed that he 
breathed quite another atmosphere in the place ; besides, considering all 
things, it was certainly the cheapest, and indeed, the only amusement 
to his fancy. Whereupon her ladyship hoped that she was not too late 
yet, and that Mr. Nicholls had not taken Mrs. Nicholls’s box for the 
season yet. To which he replied that he had not as yet, and that, to 
say the truth, his wife’s health w'as so delicate that he did not know 
whether Mrs. Nicholls’s physician would permit her to go there this 
year. On this, her ladyship expressed great sympathy for the alleged 
sufferer, and recommended her physician, who, she said, had done won- 
ders for her nerves ; and then she begged to know whether Mr. Nicholls 
was any relation to that amiable man. Sir Giles Nicholls, whom she had 
had the pleasure of meeting in the north last autumn ; and on hearing 
that he was the son of Sir Giles, her ladyship hoped that he would be 
sure to remember her to the fine old gentleman, the first time he had an 
opportunity. After which. Lady Verulam made Mrs. Nicholls promise 
that she would take pity on her dear girls, and call and see them, for 
they had heard such a deal about her that they were positively dying 
to make her acquaintance. So that by the time her ladyship took her 
leave, Mr. Nicholls had forgotten his excuses, and consented to share 
the opera-box with Lady Verulam. 

When Mr. and Mrs. Nicholls were alone, and began to consider what 
they had done, they were astonished to find that the expense of it was 
not so much after all ; for that last season it had cost them between 
twenty and thirty pounds for boxes ; and now, for a trifle more than 
fifty pounds a year extra — in fact, a mere pound a week — they should 
have all the kclat of having a box of their own ; and that, if Sara could 
only manage to save the additional pound out of the weekly house- 
keeping, why, they would actually be getting an opera-box for nothing ! 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


When, the season came they didn’t at all regret their great bargain ; 
for the brilliants looked superb with the lights playing upon them ; and 
Mrs. Nicholls was delighted to see that all the loungers in the pit, as 
they passed by “ her box,” couldn’t help gazing at her ; nor was she 



“ The loungers in the pit, as they passed ‘her box,' could not help looking at her ” 


less gratified to find them stopping a few paces off and taking a long 
peep at her through their lorgnettes. Though when the time came for 
her carriage to be called, her heart invariably sank within her as she 
jumped into “ the fly” they had hired for the evening trembling lest 
any of her previous admirers should follow her and discover that they 
were not carriage people. 

Every time they went to the Opera, Mr. and Mrs. W. Nicholls had 
some complaint or other to make about “ the fly;” either the cushions 
were damp, or covered with dust enough to spoil any dress ; or the brass 
ornaments hadn’t been cleaned ; or the driver’s box-coat was not fit to 

21 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


be seen, and all burst at the button-holes ; and his hat was so shabby 
and bent that really he didn’t look a bit better than a common cabman 
in the street ; so that, although they were paying an enormous price, 
any one could see with half an eye that it wasn’t their own turn-out ; " 
indeed, as far as it went, they might just as well save the expense, and 
have a hackney-coach at once ; and they only wished to goodness there 
was another man in the neighborhood near at hand who let at least 
decent things. So they went on grumbling until the night of the 
Queen’s Drawing-room, when Mrs. Nicholls, on her return from the 
opera, found that the plume that she had put in her head, so that she 
might not appear at the Opera difierent from the ladies who had been to 
the palace, was completely tipped with dirt, from rubbing against the 
roof of “ the nasty, filthy fly and as black, she said, as if somebody 
had been sweeping a chimney with it. Then it was no longer to be 
borne. Really, considering the number of things that were continually 
being spoiled, they both agreed that they were continually paying for 
more than twenty carriages would cost, and, surely, it would be better 
to job a respectable conveyance for the season, especially as the expense 
could not possibly be more, if, indeed, so much, as they were put to at 
present. 

The next morning — just for the curiosity of the thing — they went 
into a calculation to see what they were paying for cab and fly hire 
throughout the year; when, to their astonishment, they found that 
w'hat with Wellesley’s “ te” to and from his chambers every day, and 
very often a cab home late at night ; and what with “ the fly,” for Mrs. 
Nicholls, say at least twice a week, though she was certain it was much 
more ; and the fees to the driver ; and what with sundry other occasional 
cabs and omnibuses, which they could not put down as a regular expense, 
but which certainly, on the average, came to three, or, to be safe, say 
two shillings a week, they could prove to any one beyond a doubt that 
it would be a saving of at least one-third, or certainly a fourth, if they 
jobbed a carriage of their own ; and felt thoroughly satisfied in their 
own minds that the fly-man was making a very handsome annuity out 
of them. So it would be better at once to tell the man to send in his 
bill, and for Wellesley to go and inquire, as soon as possible, what the 
expense of jobbing a brougham would come to. 

When Mr. Nicholls returned home the next day he brought with hun 
several estimates from different job-masters, which coming to more than 
they had expected, both he and Sara didn’t hesitate to set down as 
shameful impositions : though, of course, they said “ it was natural to 
expect that people should make something by them.” Nicholls, how- 
ever, on his way home, had been turning the whole affair over in his 
mind, and didn’t see why they should go jobbing a carriage, and puttmg 
so much money every year in the pockets of people they didn’t care 
about, when, by buying one of their own — which they might do, second- 
hand, nowadays, for little or nothing — and keeping a horse at livery — 
which would be the only current expense of the thing — they might save 
the profit that, of course, the jobmaster would get out of them, and he 

22 


/ 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


was sure they had no money to throw in the dirt in that manner. 
Besides, the purchase of a carriage was merely one expense. When you 
had bought it, and paid for it, why, there you were — nothing further to 
bother yourself about : and as for the keep of the horse, why, the money 
he paid for going backward and forward to chambers alone would very 
nearly cover that. So it was clear that they had better buy a vehicle 
of their own, if they were to have one at all ; which, indeed, from what 
Mr. Nicholls had seen, he had made up his mind to, if he could manage 
it any way. 

Then they set their heads to work, to see in what way it could be 
managed. He couldn’t pay for it out of his next quarter’s money, that 
was clear. Sara knew as well as he did that there were some of the 
tradesmen whom he must pay ; and the fly-man, of course, would come 
bothering for his bill directly he found they had left off dealing with 
him ; and the landlord would expect at least a part of the rent that was 
owing — it was impossible to think of putting that off any longer. So 
he must try and knock out some other mode of contriving it. To be 
sure, he could get the carriage on credit, but coach-builders always made 
you pay through the nose so exorbitantly for that ; besides, he’d promised 
himself that, until he got clear of the furniture, he never would go to 
work that way again. Or, if he liked, he had no doubt he could get his 
bills done to ten times the sum he wanted, but he had the same aversion 
to that style of transaction as he had to the credit principle. At last 
he had it ! His best plan was to send a letter to his father, and ask him 
as a favor to let him have a quarter in advance : he had never asked 
“ the governor” such a thing before, and he had no doubt in the world 
the old gentleman would be quite happy to obhge him. And if he 
wouldn’t — -for he was a strange, wayward man, and there was no telling 
— why they must do as well as they could without it. And if he did, 
why Sara must manage to put up with a servant less in the house, and 
have a woman who could act both as cook and housemaid just until 
they got straight again, for he was sure their cooking was plain, easy 
work enough ; and when they gave a party, why, they could have a 
cook for the day, or the pastry and made dishes sent in from a confec- 
tioner’s. To all of which Mrs. IMichoUs, with the prospect of a carriage 
before her eyes, readily assented, promising to do her best, and see how 
matters could be arranged. 

Accordingly, Mr. Nicholls wrote his father a very dutiful and affec- 
tionate letter, in which, after stating that his practice was improving 
daily, but not so quickly as he could wish, he spoke of his introduction 
to Lady Verulam, who had met his father in the north', and who had 
said a quantity of fine things about him that he did not like to repeat ; 
and he wound up his letter by stating that he hoped to be able to get 
away next long vacation, and pay his dear father and sister a visit for 
a short time. And then, in a postscript, he added a “ By-the-by, could 
you, dear father, make it convenient to let me have a quarter’s allow- 
ance in advance ? as, at present, I can not get in the fees that my clerk 
has down in his books, and on which I had foolishly relied to meet cer- 

23 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


tain family expenses falling due in about a week’s time and appended 
to this, “ Once more, God bless you, dear^father.” He read the epistle 
to his wife, and dispatched it to post-office forthwith. , 

A day or two afterward, Nicholls, on returning home to dinner, told 
his dear Sara that, on his way from his chambers, it struck him that 
he might as well walk down Long-acre, and see if there was any second- 
hand brougham to be picked up there; and that, with his usual luck, 
he had fallen upon just the very thing they wanted. It had been built 
for a gentleman who had gone abroad, had only been in use a few 
months, and was really nearly equal to new. After which, he asked his 
wife to guess whaj the price was, reminding her that it was beautifully 
fitted up inside, with a drab lining, and had patent axletrees, while the 
body was painted a light blue, picked out with vffiite. But Mrs. 
Nicholls confessed that she knew very little about such matters, and 
that she really could not say what they might want for it. Where- 
upon her husband told her to name some price, and asked if she thought 
one hundred and fifty guineas too much ? On which Mrs. Nicholls re- 
plied that she should certainly consider it, after the description he had 
given her, very cheap at the money. At this Mr. Nicholls laughed 
with great satisfaction, and demanded to know what she should think 
if the people only asked a hundred ? to which Mrs. Nicholls answered 
that she should think it one of the greatest bargains she had ever heard 
of in all her born days. And then Mr. Nicholls laughed again, with 
still greater satisfaction than before, and inquired what Mrs. Nicholls 
would say if it was only seventy guineas ? and they would alter the 
crest into the bargain. Mrs. Nicholls replied that she should say, he 
was joking, as she was sure it never could be built for four times the 
sum ; and when Mr. Nicholls assured her that seventy guineas really 
was the price, she declared that he ought to go and secure it as soon as 
possible, and not let a chance like that slip through his fingers ; and 
that she should like, above all things on earth, to go and see it herself 
on the morrow, when Wellesley could get the man to promise not to 
part with it for a week or so, until they could give him a definite 
answer. All of which her husband thought extremely prudent, and it 
was, consequently, arranged that they should both walk down and look 
at it the very next day. 

Accordingly, on the morrow, Mr. Nicholls escorted his wife to Long- 
acre ; and Mrs. Nicholls went into such raptures at the sight of the 
darling little brougham, that when the coach-maker told her that Sir 
Somebody Something was after it, and wanted it very much, and, in 
fact, was only waiting for his lady to come and decide upon it, Mrs. 
Wellesley Nicholls drew her husband aside, and told him that as there 
could be no doubt about his father letting him have the small advance 
he had asked for, the best way would be to close with the man at once, 
unless he wished to lose the chance ; for, he might depend upon it, such 
a bargain as that would be., snapped up in less than a week, and then 
they would never forgive themselves ; so Wellesley could tell the man 
to put their crest on, and send it home in a fortnight ; and by that time 

24 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


they would be sure to have received the hundred and twenty-five pounds 
from Sir Giles. 

It didn’t require much eloquence to persude so willing a party as Mr. 
Wellesley Nicholls, and he consequently agreed with his wife, that, 
considering all things, it would perhaps be much the best to do as she 
advised, and settle about it on the spot. 

When Mr. Nicholls had done as much, it was arranged that it was 
to be sent home as soon as possible, which the coach-maker thought he 
could not promise to do under three weeks, as the varnish took so long 
drying. This annoyed Mrs. Nicholls so much that she whispered in 
her husband’s ear that he’d better ask the man if he could not let them 
have a carriage until their own was ready ; and it was only on her 
husband’s reminding her that they had no horse as yet, that the lady 
was in any way calmed. 

All that evening Mr. and Mrs. Nicholls did nothing but talk of “ their 
carriage,” and how much better it would look to have a conveyance of 
their own, instead of going riding about in those hack things which, the 
lady declared, she had long felt positively ashamed to be seen in. Be- 
sides, it would be so nice to go to church in it, and would raise them so 
much in the estimation of the world : and she was sure that nobody 
would be able to tell it hadn’t beeti built for them, it looked so perfectly 
new, even in its present state ; and when their own crest was on, and it 
had been fresh varnished, as they agreed, why, she would defy even a 
coach builder himself to tell that it was a second-hand one. 

A lapse of a few days brought the long-looked-for answer from Sir 
Giles, and though it contained a refusal of Mr. Nicholls’s request, and 
blamed him for attempting to forstall his only means of subsistence, and 
which, his father said, he felt it his duty not to permit him to do, still it 
made amends, by informing Wellesley that his sister was coming to 
London to stop a year or two at his house, as it was his father’s wish 
that the young lady, having completed her education in the country, 
should have an opportunity of becoming acquainted with London society 
and manners. And, in order that his son might not be put to any extra 
expense on his sister’s account, his father had ordered his bankers in 
town to honor Wellesley’s check to the amount of one hundred and fifty 
pounds, which he was to consider only as an equivalent for his sister’s 
first year’s board and lodging with him ; and he had made this payment 
in advance, so that Wellesley might not be inconvenienced by the unex- 
pected increase in his family expenditure. 

“ There’s a bit of good news for you, Sara,” said Mr. Wellesley 
Nicholls, handing the letter to his wife ; “ although it nearly took my 
breath away at first, especially as we had bought the carriage. How- 
ever, it’s all right, thank goodness. And, what’s more, we shall have 
no occasion to get rid of the housemaid.” 

“ Get rid of her, indeed ! I should think not. Rather have occasion 
to keep her and another into the bargain,” answered Mrs. Nicholls ; 
“ though I’m sure I don’t know how we shall manage to do so here, for 
you forget, Wellesley dear, that we haven’t a single room unoccupied that 

25 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


we can ever put your sister into. Nor do I see, either, how we shall 
ever be able to make shift in this poking little place. You know it 
isn’t as if it was only for a week or so, Wellesley, or else we might 
contrive.”^ ) • 

“ Well, Sara, it’s useless talking in that way,” returned Mr. Nicholls. 
“ Contrive you must, somehow ; for I’m- not going to be dragged into 
taking a new house, I can tell you, for all the sisters in the world, and 
just after buying a carriage, too. Now, would it be commonly prudent 
even to think of such a thing,, eh ?” 

“ No, my dear, I don’t mean to say it would,” continued Mrs. Wel- 
lesley Nicholls ; “ only your sister will expect to have an apartrnent to 
herself, or you may be sure Sir Giles would never think of paying the 
price he does for mere board and lodging for her. And if you will show 
me a room in this house that we can give up to her, why, I won’t say 
any more about it.” - 

“ Perhapsj my dear,” said Mr. Wellesley Nicholls, half angrily, “ that 
is the best thing you can do under any circumstances. So, if you please, 
we’ll talk about it another time. You know, yourself, Sara, that I can 
not afford to take a larger house ; and, understand me plainly, once for 
all, I will not do it. So to-morrow we’ll go over the bedrooms up-stairs 
together, and see what can be done.” 

26 ' 




•/' 






4 


: ^ ‘ ^ J i i ^ • 

^ iT ' V-,, , - i> f 




■V- 

l: 



LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


CHAPTER IV. 

The next morning Mr. and Mrs. Wellesley Nicliolls, according to 
agreement, went over the upper part of the house, to see which room 
could be given up to Wellesley’s sister. First one plan was proposed, 
and then another. Now the nursery was to be given up ; hut then it 
was impossible, for there must be a separate room at the top of the house 
for the children to play in. And now the cook and the housemaid were 
to sleep together in the back kitchen, which Wellesley said could easily 
be fitted up as a bedroom for them : but then Mrs. NichoUs wanted to 
know how the house could ever be managed without a back kitchen ; 
and, moreover, she asked where Parker’s press-bedstead was to go to — 
he must have a room to himself. Then Wellesley proposed that they 
should hire a bedroom for him at some house close by, just for the time, 
and so the maids could have Parker’s room, and the nurse and the chil- 
dren could leave the bedroom at the back of theirs, and go up into the 
maids’ room, in the back attic, and the front attic might still remain as 
the nursery. But this profound plan Mrs. Nicholls overruled by inquir- 
ing, if Parker slept out, at what time Wellesley thought he would be 
coming in to do his work-in the morning ? Besides, it would never do. 
Then, Wellesley didn’t see why Parker shouldn’t sleep in the front kitch- 
en, if that was all. Whereupon Mrs. Nicholls exclaimed, “ What ! in 
the place where their dinners were cooked?” So that Wellesley, find- 
ing that he could devise no feasible method for getting out of their diffi- 
culty, grew angry, and said that his wife might arrange it just as she 
liked, but arranged it must be, somehow or other — for, as he had said 
before, he was not going to be dragged into the expense of taking a larger 
house, especially as it was as much as he could do to pay the rent of the 
one he was in — so he begged she wouldn’t speak to him any more about 
it : and thus the matter dropped, Mrs. Nicholls feeling considerably an- 
noyed because her husband wouldn't take a new house, and Mr. Nicholls 
half vexed because he couldn't. ' 

The carriage was to be home in about a fortnight, so it was high time 
to look after a horse. Nicholls had seen one or two, but the animals 
didn’t step out well, and carried their heads badly, and, in fact, were not 
sufficiently showy for what he wanted. Luckily, however, his friend 
Lively Harry came to his aid ; for, one afternoon, while he was at 
Anderson’s, looking at a horse, which he was having trotted up and 
down, that ubiquitous gentleman strolled through the yard ; and, seeing 
what Nicholls was after, advised him not on any account to buy that 
creature, for it was an old stager, and he had known it on town for ten 
years at least, during which time it had had double as many masters. 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


Last season young Greville bought it. Of course, he continued, Nicholls 
knew young Greville — he was in the Thames Yacht Club, and had 
won the cup the year Cerito came out. Then Lively Harry hoped Mrs. 
Nicholls didn’t catch cold last Tuesday night; and told Wellesley, after 
he had left them, he had gone to supper with a friend, who assured him, 
on the best authority, that there was about to be another change in the 
Ministry. Next he asked Nicholls whether he had read D’lsra^i’s last 
new novel, and what he thought of it ? The people were all talking 
about it, he said, at Fred Gordon’s the other night — he meant Fred 
Gordon that had carried off Baron Rathbone’s eldest daughter. And 
then he exclaimed, “ By-the-by, Nicholls, Gordon has a chestnut mare 
that he wants to part with, that would just suit you ; so, if you like. I’ll 
just step round with you and introduce you. He’s a deuced nice fellow 
for a man to know, and gives capital parties, I can tell you ; and then 
we can all go and look at the animal together.-” 

And so they did, and Wellesley was so taken with the paces and 
whole appearance of the mare, that he made her his own by giving Mr. 
Gordon his bill for fifty pounds, at a month, and left directions that the 
horse should be sent home on the morrow. 

At dinner he told his wife all that he had done, and remarked how 
well the horse would look in their carriage, for chestnut was such a nice, 
gentlemanly color ; and that he was sure that when she saw it in the 
brougham, she would say that any one would take it to be a nobleman’s 
turn-out, adding that he had given a bill at a month for the animal, be- 
cause by that time his quarter’s allowance would be due. All of which 
pleased Mrs. Nicholls exceedingly ; but, reverting in her own mind to 
the house, she asked Wellesley where he was going to put the horse ? To 
which Mr. Nicholls replied, that perhaps it would be better to let it 
stand at livery for a time at the fly-master’s stables, as that would keep 
the fellow from bothering him about his account. Whereupon Mrs. 
Nicholls begged of her husband to think of what he was about to do ; 
and, just to prove to him the foolish, imprudent way in which he was 
going to act, she pointed out how he would have to pay at least thirty 
shillings a week for the horse and carriage at livery, and from five to 
seven shillings a week for a bedroom for Parker out of the house — mak- 
ing, with one thing and another, near upon two pounds, or better than a 
hundred a year, addition to his present expenses. And all that he would 
go and incur just because he was so obstinate as not to take a new house, 
and where he could have his own stables, and live in a more fashionable 
part of the town, for very little more than they were at present paying 
for the out-of-the-way little place they lived in. 

This was a home thrust to Nicholls’s pocket and vanity, for he began 
to see that by moving, as his wife had pleasantly said, to a more fashion- 
able part of the town, he could make twice as stylish appearance for 
little more than half of what it cost him in the humble retirement of St. 
John’s-wood. Still, he trembled lest he should not be able to find a 
tenant for the remainder of his lease ; and he expressed to his wife the 
fears he had on that score. Whereupon Mrs. Nicholls assured him that, 

28 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


after the improvements they had made, and the manner in which they 
had beautified the place, they should he able to let it directly, and, so far 
as that went, at an increased rent into the bargain ; adding that, either 
it was very foolish to have ever bought the carriage at all, or else, hav- 
ing done so, it was worse than madness to think of stopping in a place 
where there were no stables, and nobody near that you care about to see 
it, and where it was positively little or no credit at all to one. And 
how a man, she continued, with the income which he now had, could 
hesitate for a moment about going into a better part of the town, was, 
she must confess, far beyond her comprehension. Why, there was he, 
receiving five hundred a year from his father, and say a hundred a year 
from his business, and a hundred and sixty from his sister, making his 
income, all together, near upon eight hundred pounds, to say nothing of 
what he would save by the stables, and the increase of rent they were 
to get for their present house — and yet he was frightened to death about 
going into a place 'that couldn’t, even in the most expensive quarter of 
London, cost him more than fifty pounds a year beyond what he was 
then paying. 

Wellesley at once saw the correctness of the statement, and observed 
that, to be sure, it was not as if they would have to buy new furniture, 
for what he had got, he was certain, was good enough for any where. So 
that, after a little further consideration of the matter, it was arranged 
that Wellesley should look out and see what could be done. 

Mr. Wellesley Nicholls, having once made up his mind to leave, 
wasn’t long in finding a house quite equal, if not superior, to his im- 
proved circumstances. It was delightfully situated within five minutes’ 
walk of Hyde Park, with excellent stabling, all complete, and offered 
every convenience to a family of the highest respectability ; and what 
made it far more desirable in the eyes of both Mr. and Mrs. Wellesley 
Nicholls was, that their sideboard fitted the recess in the dining-room to 
a hair, and their drawing-room carpet was very little too large, and 
could easily be cut down for the little sitting-room at the back. They 
both of them agreed, as usual, that it was quite a bargain at a hundred 
and twenty pounds a year, especially as there was no premium to pay, 
and the fixtures were to be taken at a valuation, and they couldn’t come 
to much. Though when, in about a fortnight afterward, Mr. Nicholls 
went to “ settle and sign,” he was astonished to find, that, what with 
the expenses of preparing the lease, and the broker’s valuation of the 
fixtures, “ that couldn’t come to much,” he had eighty-seven pounds 
odd to pay before entering the premises. However, he had a perfect 
gentleman to deal with, who took short bills for the fixtures, and conse- 
quently he had only the legal expenses to get rid off. 

Nicholls chose a beautiful apartment for his sister, and he thanked 
his stars that, with the exception of fitting that up, and a carpet or two 
for the principal rooms, he should be pujt to little or no expense at all. 
Though, when they called in the upholsterer, it was astonishing to see 
how mistaken they had been in this respect likewise, as the man soon 
proved to them that there was scarcely a room in the new house that 

29 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


didn’t require something or other to he made for it, for the whole place 
was so much larger, that it would look nearly naked without it. There 
must be half a dozen new chairs and a couple of what-nots for the 
dining-room, to make it look any thing like, and another sofa and otto- 
man lor the back drawing-room ; and the upholsterer would also recom- 
mend a pier-glass or two and some card-tables for the front drawing- 
room ; and then the curtains they had at present would look terribly 
scanty, and cost almost as much to alter as a new set would come to ; 
and, moreover, there was the little hack sitting-room — that would have 
to he entirely new furnished, and which, strange to say, had totally 
escaped Mr. Nicholls’s notice. But the upholsterer was in a very large 
way of business, and he had furnished Wellesley’s house before, and had 
never pressed much for his money ; so Mr. NichoUs agreed with the man, 
that, while he was about it, it would be better not “ to spoil the ship 
for a hap’orth of tar,” especially as it was a thing they didn’t do every 
day ; and, besides, what would his friends say, when they came and saw 
a large handsome room only half filled with furniture. Consequently, 
the orders were given, and in a month’s time the house was to be all 
ready to receive them. 

Previous to leaving St. John’s- wood, Mr. NichoUs found several other 
little difficulties arise which had not entered into his calculation ; for 
the tradesmen, hearing that he was about to quit the neighborhood, 
began to grow rather persevering about the settlement of their bills ; 
and by the time he had quitted them and paid for the carriage, he found 
that a considerable hole had been made in the hundred and fifty pounds 
he had received on account of his sister’s first year’s board and lodging. 
However, in a week he would have his quarter’s money again, which, 
together with the ten or twelve pounds that remained in hand, he 
reckoned would enable him to pay up all his back rent, and stop the 
mouth of that bothering fly-man with something on account ; and then, 
if he could only manage to put off some of the other things that were 
not so particularly pressing, he had no doubt he should be able to carry 
on the war. For it was not as if he was going into a worse house : and 
then creditors never annoyed a man when they saw that he was getting 
up in the world ; so that, after all, he was only worrying himself about 
trifles, and felt convinced that in a year or two (with proper manage- 
ment) he should find himself much better off than ever he had been. 

One day, when NichoUs came home from business, he was astonished 
to learn from Mrs. NichoUs that the fly-man had objected to take the 
ten pounds on account, observing that, as the bill had been running on 
for near upon a year, and they were about quitting the neighborhood, he 
didn’t see why he shouldn’t be paid in full, as the other tradesmen had 
been. Whereupon Mr. NichoUs said the fly-man was an impudent 
scoundrel, and told his wife how he would just serve the gentleman. 
He shouldn’t have a sixpence until the rest had been paid ; and when 
he called again, Mrs. NichoUs might tell him as much. But Mrs. 
NichoUs begged of her husband not to be too hard upon the man, 
for he seemed to be well disposed ; and, as the poor fellow had said. ' 

30 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


he’d got a large family to support, and he was obliged to pay ready 
money for every thing he had, and that she really thought he pressed 
so hard for his money merely because he couldn’t afford to wait for it, 
and that he had said as much, indeed. To all of which Mr. Nicholls 
merely repHed by asking his wife what the man’s large family was to 
him ? That surely was the man’s look-out, he said, not his. Besides, 
even if he felt disposed to take the man’s necessities into consideration, 
how on earth was it possible for him to do so ? He’d merely ask her 
if Gordon’s bill for the horse wasn’t coming due in a day or two’s time ; 
and did she think it would ever do for him to let that go back? No! 
not for all the men with large families in the kingdom, he could tell 
her ! Wasn’t he bound, as a man of honor, to attend to that ; for a 
pretty thing it would be, indeed, to have it rumored about town that 
Wellesley Nicholls had done Fred Gordon out of his horse. People 
might say, perhaps, that he was imprudent ; but, thank heaven, no one 
could say, and he’d take precious good care no one ever should say, 
that he was dishonorable ! 

To these sentiments Mrs. Nicholls gave her warmest approbation, 
and said she only wanted her husband to do all he possibly could for 
the poor man, and Wellesley to see if he couldn’t spare the poor fellow 
half of his bill, just for the present. Whereupon Mr. Nicholls could 
contain himself no longer, and remarked how foolish his wife talked, 
and that she would go speaking without thinking. She knew as well 
as he did that, when he went for his quarter’s money the day after 
to-morrow, he must pay out of it Gordon’s bill, fifty pounds, and half 
a year’s rent, thirty pounds, and that scoundrel of a butcher the re- 
mainder of his account, which was twelve pounds ; and then there were 
the expenses of moving, and they’d be a ten-pound note if they were a 
penny ; and did she think he was going into a new house without a six- 
pence, or to leave himself to go about like a scamp, without a penny in 
his pocket ? No, not for a whole regiment of fly-men ! Besides, it would 
be a good lesson to the fellow, and teach him to be more civil to gentle- 
men for the future. 

When they were fairly in the new residence, Nicholls laid in a store 
of corn and hay, and sent his groom for the horse, with a letter, stating 
that the fly-man’s bill should be attended to as soon as Mr. Nicholls 
could make it convenient. But when the groom returned, and told his 
master that the fly-man refused to part with the animal until his ac- 
count was settled, Mr. Nicholls’s rage knew no bounds ; and Mrs. Nicholls 
declared that she had never heard of such shameful conduct in all her 
days ; adding, that surely the man had no right to do it. To which her 
husband answered, that of course he hadn’t ; and that he would cer- 
tainly commence an action against him the very next day, if it wasn’t 
• that the fellow was a positive pauper ; and where was the good of go- 
ing to law with a scoundrel that wasn’t worth powder and shot ? and, 
of course, that was the reason why he imposed upon gentlemen. But 
he’d be too many for the rogue now ; for he’d take a policeman, and 
jump into a cab, and go up, and formally demand the animal of the 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD} OR, 


man ; and, if he refused, why he’d give the fellow in charge for felony 
on the spot, and then he should see how he liked that. Mrs. Nicholls, 
however, said that though it would serve the ungrateful man perfectly 
right, still, she did not think it would he quite prudent of Nicholls, un- 
der the circumstances, to do so ; for the whole affair would be certain 
to get into the papers, and then there’d he a pretty exposure — letting 
the whole world know they couldn’t pay a bill of thirty-seven pounds. 
So she thought the best plan, after all, would be to try and borrow some 
money somewhere, and pay the man, and have done with him. 

When Mr. Nicholls got a little cooler, and came to turn the matter 
over in his mind, he agreed with his wife that it did appear to him to 
he the more advisable course to take, only he didn’t exactly see whom 
he could go to and ask for the money. 

After the governor’s letter, it was clear there was no hope in that 
quarter. To be sure, he observed, he might be able to get a bill done, 
though he didn’t like getting friends to lend their acceptances, and, in 
fact, he w^ould much rather ask them for the money at once. And then, 
after knitting his brows and biting his lips for a time, he said to his 
wife, “ By-the-by, Sara, don’t you think your brother Reuben would be 
likely to lend it ?” 

“ Why,” answered Mrs. Nicholls, “I don’t know; you see, you have 
always slighted him so, Wellesley, and it would look so odd going and 
asking favors of him after that. Besides I haven’t written to him for 
so long, that I shouldn’t like to let him imagine that I only wrote when 
I wanted something.” 

“ Pack o’ nonsense,” replied Wellesley ; “ why, isn’t it easy enough for 
you to say that you’ve been prevented by illness from writing before ; 
and that you have got a milliner’s bill to pay, that you’ve contracted 
unknown to me, and that I should make a dreadful noise about it, if it 
came to my ears ; and that, if he will only assist you this once, of course, 
you’ll promise him never to do the like again.” 

“ Well but,” answered Mrs. Nicholls, “ won’t it seem strange, after 
all he said when he was last in town about our extravagance, to go tell- 
ing him that I owe near upon forty pounds for dresses and things.^’ 

“ Forty pounds, indeed,” indignantly exclaimed Mr. Wpllesley Nicholls. 
“ You don’t, I hope, for one moment, imagine that I am going to let 
your brother Reuben know that we can’t pay forty pounds ? That 
would, if you like, be making him fancy that his words were coming 
true, and that we were going to the dogs with a vengeance. Besides, 
to be poor and seem poor is the very deuce, as the saying goes. No, 
my dear, the very least that we can ask him for, with any credit tc 
ourselves, 'is a hundred pounds.” 

“ What ! a hundred pounds for millinery ?” cried Mrs. Wellesley 
Nicholls. “ Oh ! what evei will Reuben think of me, Wellesley, dear ?” 

“Think ?” replied Mr. Nicholls ; “ why, think it a very moderate 
sum for a person in your station in life ; you forget who you are, my love. 
Besides if you’re frightened at all about that, you can spread it over two 
or three years^ you know, and throw the children in, into the bargain.” 

32 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


At length the matter was settled ? and as Mrs. Nicholls sat down to 
sprite the letter, her husband reminded her that she might as well ask 



'Say that you’ve been prevented by illness from writing before." 


her brother Reuben and his wife to come and stop a few days in town 
with them, as it would make it look all the more friendly, as there 
wasn’t any chance of his accepting it. Besides, after an invitation like 
that, he didn’t see how master Reuben could well get off lending the 
money, especially as he had always seemed so anxious to keep up the 
acquaintance. 

When the letter had gone, Mr. and Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls were 
all impatience for the answer, which they kept hoping each day’s post 
would bring them, for, the worst of it was, Nicholls wanted the horse 
particularly to fetch his sister from the railway station in his own 
carriage. 

C 


33 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


f - 


k ' 


CHAPTER V, 

Mrs. Reuben Marsh, with her hare arms all white with flour, was 
busily employed preparing her one o’clock dinner, when Barnes, the 
postman, called, on his rounds, with the letter from Farnham, and left 
a scented note, hearing the London post-mark, for her husband. Having 
drunk off a glass of ale — which, together with the fee of one penny, 
was his usual perquisite for delivering all letters out of the town — 
the postman inquired after the state of the crops and the children, and 
took his departure ; while Mrs. Marsh, carefully holding the letter be- 
tween her pasty fingers, turned it over and over again, to see if she 
could tell from where it came ; and then, sniffing the perfume that still 
hung about it, she wondered whether it could be from their Sally. It 
were very like her fine writing ; but Reuben hadn’t sent them any 
present lately, so it couldn’t be from her, that were clear. To satisfy 
her curiosity, she shouted to one of the boys in the yard, and told him 
to go over to the barn, and tell his master that there were a letter for 
him from London, and that he must come over directly. Then off* the 
boy ran, making the poultry fly cackling and gobbling away in all direc- 
tions, as he dashed in among them, and scampered across the yard. 

In a few minutes Reuben made his appearance, with his black hat 
all over dust (for they had been winnowing), while his gray shooting- 
jacket and brown leather gaiters were covered with husks. 

“ Why, Molly, it be a letter from our Sally,” cried Reuben, as soon 
as he saw the handwriting. “ What be in the wind now ? The letter 
ain’t in mourning, or I should have thought some on ’em in London had 
gone dead, it’s such a rare thing for sister to write to a body. Come, 
take my hat, Molly, and give us a mug of beer, for my throat is full of 
chucks, and I can read it to ye, girl, while ye be getting the dinner 
ready.” 

Then, sitting down^ he opened the letter, and cried to his wife : 
“ Why, Molly, they be gone away from St. John’s- wood, and danged 
if they ben’t living in Hyde Park ! Well, I only hope it will last, girl ; 
but it strikes me that they be like many others, and don’t know which 
side their bread be buttered on. Depend upon it, Molly, their next 
move will be either to St. James’s Palace or the Queen’s Bench Prison. 
Five hundred a year be only five hundred a year, wife ; and they hadn’t 
more than they knew what to do with in t’other place. This living for 
show, Molly, be to my mind just like your Brummagem plated spoons 
— uncommon grand for a time, but not at all likely to last ; and the first 
hard rub they gets, why — off goes all the silver, and there be nothing 
but copper left for a body to put up with. Howsomever, let’s go on 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES, 


with the letter. Well, come ! Sally he a good-natured lass at heart, 
after all. She do say, she and Wellesley be afeared they’ve been turn- 
ing their backs upon us, and do want us to go and pass a week with ’em 
in London. It be very good on ’em, ben’t it, Molly 

“ Ah ! replied Molly.” shaking her head, “ I always told thee she 
were a good lass ; and thee should read, husband, before thee con- 
demn’st.” 

“ Whew !” whistled Reuben, scratching his head ; “ listen here, 
Molly. What do you think ? why, danged if that extravagant young 
hussy of a sister of mine ain’t been and run up a bill of one hundred 
pounds. Do you hear that, girl] One hundred pounds, and all for 



“ One hundred pounds ! and all for dresses !” 


AVeBY.SP — 


dresses, and ribbons, and fine things ; and unbeknown to her husband, 
too as I’m her brother ! And now the oudacious bit of goods be afeard 
’ 35 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


on its coming to Nicholls’s ears, and do want me to lend her the money. 
Did thee ever hear the likes of it ]” 

“ One hundred pounds !” exelaimed Mrs. Marsh. “Ah, well, I ben’t 
astonished ! I ben’t astonished ! for, when she were down here she were 
uncommon fond of fine things, and many a time I’ve told her it ’ud 
bring trouble on her ; and you see I weren’t far out, was I, good man 1 
But she were such a comely lass, and had such a purty face of her own, 
that it were, as a body ’ud say, quite natural to her. But a hundred 
pounds for fine things, Reuben! Bless us and save us, one hundred 
pounds! Why, what will the poor thing come to?” 

“Want, I be afeard, Molly,’’ returned Reuben. “Want for them, 
and bad times for us ; for it be as much as a hard-working man can do 
to keep his own family clean and decent nowadays, let alone other peo- 
ple’s ; but that’s what we shall have to do before long, Molly, take my 
bare word for it. It ’ud be a wrong thing, I know, to go paying that 
hundred pounds for Miss Sally ; and yet, dang it, it ’ud never do, girl, 
to see Nicholls ruined by one’s own sister. You see, if I do pay it, why 
the foolish, conceited thing will only go doing the likes again to-morrow ; 
and yet if I don’t, why, I suppose there’ll be the bailies in the place, 
and all along of Sally. Come, give us a word, wife ; what say ye, 
eh?” 

“ Why, I tell thee what, Reuben,” answered his wife. “ Can’t thee 
allow the bailies to come in, so as to let them have a taste of trouble first, 
and then give the hundred pounds and pay them out. It’ll be a lesson 
to them, like.” 

“ Yes, wife,” rejoined Reuben, “ it ’ud be a lesson to ’em, surely ; but 
the bailies, Molly, do charge so plaguy dear for their schooling, that I 
shouldn’t wonder now if that little bit of laming were to stand them in 
near upon another hundred pounds at least ; so I’ll tell thee what I’ll 
do, Molly. I’ll pay the money for her without any fuss this once ; for, 
you see, we’ve got before the world a little bit now, and Sally’s been 
off our hands some time, and never had any thing to talk of from us ; 
besides, to speak the plain truth, I like the girl’s principle about wishing 
to pay it back ; and maybe the poor lass is main sorry for what she’s 
been a- doing ; though, to be sure, I should have been twice as well 
pleased if she hadn’t gone asking us to pass a week with her at her fine 
place in London. You see, Molly, it doesn’t look straightforward like ; 
and what a plaguy fool of a brother she must think she ha’ got, to fancy 
we shouldn’t see through that there — eh, wife ?” 

“Yes,” answered Molly; “and the stupid thing ought to have re- 
membered, that it be the first time she ha’ ever done as much to’ards 
us. Still, never fash thyself about that Reuben, but pay the money ; 
and what be more, pay it thyself, for it be clear Sally don’t know the 
value on it, and ben’t in a fit state to be trusted with it, and would only 
go spending it on other things, maybe.” 

“ Well said our side, Molly !” returned Reuben ; “ leave thee alone 
for keeping all thy eyes about thee. So I’ll do as thee sayest, girl, and 
write to foolish Sally for the name of the body who she do owe the 

36 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


hundred pounds to, and larn where she do live ; and then I’ll go up 
to London and pay it myself, and make sister happy in her mind again.” 

So saying, he told Molly to put the dinner back a bit, and sat down 
and wrote his letter to Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls. When he had done 
so, he read it to his wife, and, calling one of the boys, told him to put a 
saddle on Jack, and make haste over to Farnham with it as quickly as 
he could. 

The next day, when Mr. and Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls came down to 
breakfast, Reuben’s letter lay upon the table. Nicholls, before handing 
it to his wife to open, bent it backward and forward to see if he could 
detect any inclosure, and gave it to her, saying that he was afraid there 
was neither check nor note in it. 

When Mrs. Nicholls read the first part of the letter, in which 
Reuben, after scolding her, said that he would pay the money for her 
this once, Nicholls said, that he had always thought her brother a fine 
fellow at heart, and he was glad to find that he was not mistaken. On 
hearing, however, that Reuben would only do so on condition of his 
being allowed to discharge the alleged bill himself, Nicholls called him a 
suspicious lout, and said it was clear the fellow didn’t believe that Sara 
owed the money, and that he had half a mind to wring the clodhopper’s 
nose for doubting his wife’s word, adding, that he should like to catch 
himself giving Mr. Reuben Marsh the chance of doing them a good turn 
again. 

“ Yes, I told you how it would be,” answered Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls ; 
“ and that it would look so bad, saying that I wanted it to pay a bill for 
millinery.” ‘ 

“ Psha !” replied Mr. Nicholls. “ I’ve told you over and over again 
it would never have done for me to have asked for the money, after the 
way in which we slighted the man. No, my dear. The fact is, that, 
though he is your brother, he’s a mean fellow, and of course, from the 
manner in which he has been brought up, can not understand the feel- 
ings of a gentleman. But I will soon let him see that he’s not the only 
friend we’ve got in the world. I’ll go to Lively Harry this very day, 
and get him to lend me his acceptance, for it’s impossible to do without 
the horse, and that rogue of a fly-man doesn’t seem at all inclined to 
give him up without his money ; so you can just scribble a letter to 
your brother while I go and ferret out Harry. And mind, now, don’t 
you go fawning to Mr. Reuben Marsh, but speak out like a woman, and 
give him to understand that you think he has acted in the business any 
thing but like a brother ; and tell him that, under your present feelings, 
the less you see of one another for the future, the better.” 

Mr. Nicholls found Lively Harry quite a different sort of person from 
Reuben Marsh ; indeed, as Wellesley afterward told his wife, he be- 
haved throughout the whole transaction like a perfect gentleman ; for 
he told him he was a man of the world, and understood those things, 
and was always very ready to oblige a friend in so trifling a matter as 
his acceptance ; indeed, for his own part. Lively Harry said he didn’t 
see the use of limiting the commerce of the country to the amount cf 

37 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


‘bullion in the kingdom, and had always been a man who had advo- 
cated the use of paper. But, though Mr. NichoUs soon became a con- 
vert to Lively Harry’s lucid arguments on the currency, still he was 
disgusted to find that the men in the city were far from being in the 
same way of thinking ; for it took him nearly half the day before he 
could discover any gentleman who was sufficiently enterprising to look 
upon the small piece of paper to which Lively Harry had affixed his 
name, and made payable at his tailor’s in Jermyn-street, in the light of 
money. 

At last, however, his wine-merchant gave him a letter to a gentle- 
man of the legal profession and Jewish persuasion, who obliged him by 
converting the hill into as much gold as he said he could afford to 
give ; whereupon Mr. NichoUs jumped into a cab, dashed up to the 
fly-man, paid his bill with all the dignity of a millionaire^ and 
ordered the fellow to give the mare to his groom when he called. On 
reaching home again, he threw himself on the sofa, and told his wife 
he felt quite a new man ; for, thank Heaven ! that was settled. 

However, Mr. NichoUs was no sooner out of one difficulty than he 
found himself in another ; for, in two or three days’ time, his wife in- 
formed him that the man who had supplied the carpets had sent a let- 
ter requesting the amount of his bill, as the goods had been sold for ready 
money. But Wellesley only answered that the carpet-man must wait 
until he had let his old house ; and that with the premium he expected 
to get there he would pay him, for he had directed the house-agent to 
ask £200 premium for it, which, he was sure, was little enough, as he 
had laid out nearly double the sum in that place. So that, though the 
man was very assiduous in his calls, still, no matter at what time he 
came, he invariably found that Mr. NichoUs was “out.” Until, at 
length worn out of patience by his fruitless visits, the carpet-man sent a 
gentleman who, not being known to the servants, obtained an interview 
with Mr. NichoUs, and took the liberty of presenting him with the copy 
of a writ. 

NichoUs knew enough of his profession not to he frightened by such 
things as the first steps to a lawsuit, although, as he told his wife, he was 
annoyed at the man’s confounded impudence ; hut, as the fellow had 
chosen to go to law, why he might make the most of it ; and he’d take 
precious good care to keep him out of his money as long as he could. 
To he sure, it would be a trifling extra expense to him, but it would be 
worth that to punish the vagabond, and especially at the present mo- 
ment, when Mr. NichoUs himself only wanted a little time to get round 
— so that he didn’t mind what he paid for it. Sara was as well aware 
as he was that there would be the first quarter’s rent, and one of the hills 
he had given for the fixtures, and Lively Harry’s acceptance, together 
with the rent of the other house, aU coming due in about six weeks’ time 
and he had calculated that they would just about swallow up his next 
quarter’s money. Consequently, it wasn’t likely that he was going to 
pay a rascally carpet-dealer, and leave a man who had behaved so thor- 
oughly Uke a gentleman as his landlord had, unsatisfied. Besides, 

38 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


whatever he did, the first quarter’s rent and the bill for the fixtures must, 
he paid : and Lively Harry’s acceptance was a matter of honor, that he 
could not put off — though the rent of the house in St. John’s-wood he 
didn’t care so much about, and he could let that stand over a bit.. So 
perhaps, after all, it was much better for him that the carpet-man had 
done as he had ; for now, thank Heaven ! he shouldn’t have that man 
coming and knocking at his door every day. However, he begged his 
wife on no account to let his sister know any thing about the writ. 

For about a fortnight Mr. Nicholls enjoyed perfect family bliss — driv- 
ing in the Park every afternoon with his wife and sister ; seeing sights 
in the morning, and visiting the Opera or the theater at night. And 
then, feeling himself called upon to give what he styled a “house-warm- 
ing” in his new residence, he issued cards of invitation for a grand even- 
ing party, which he arranged to come off a few days after he should 
have received the next installment of his allowance. 

When, however, Sir Giles’s remittance came to hand, Nicholls found 
that by the time he had paid the landlord’s rent, and the first of the 
bills for fixtures, and given ready money for several trifling articles 
which were required for his evening party, and which he could not ob- 
tain upon credit, the remainder of his quarterly allowance was only suf- 
ficient to enable him to carry on the housekeeping for the next three 
months ; and he was in sad tribulation on account of Lively Harry’s ac- 
ceptance. But he would go and see the holder of it, and get him to re- 
new the bill, which he had no doubt he would do for a five-pound note 
or two ; though, upon second thoughts, it struck him that, instead of ask- 
ing favors of a money-lender, it would be more advisable to get Lively 
Harry to lend his name to another and larger bill, and so take up the 
one falling due in three or four days, and stop the carpet-man’s action 
which he now began to feel rather uneasy about. Besides, he agreed 
with himself that it would look much better to take up the first bill that 
he had discounted with the gentleman in the city : and that, by doing 
so, he would establish his credit with him — ^that of course the man 
wouldn’t object to do another for double or treble the amount, at any 
future time that he might be in want of such a thing. 

But Nicholls, unfortunately, was reckoning without his host, and 
when he went to seek for his friend, he found him not quite so easy to 
be met with. He hunted for Lively Harry at his club, and at all his 
difierent haunts ; but in each place the gentleman had not been seen or 
heard of for more than a week ; and Mr. Nicholls being as ignorant as 
every one else as to the exact locality of his friend*s domicile, he returned 
home that evening before the bill became due, miserable, tired, worried, 
and surly, for he knew not how to manage. 

All dinner he scarcely spoke to his wife. When she tried to divert 
his thoughts by any trivial conversation, he gave short, snappish an- 
swers ; and it was only the presence of his sister and the servants that 
prevented him from transgressing the forms of politeness. 

As he sat alone sipping his wine, after his wife and sister had retired 
to the drawing-room, he kept twisting over and over in his mind the 

39 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


different means by which he thought he might save himself from the 
dishonor of letting his friend’s bill go back unpaid on the morrow. At 
last he rang the bell, and told the page to tell Mrs. Nicholls that he 
wished to speak with her. 

When his wife made her appearance, he began by apologizing to her 
for any little rudeness he might have been guilty of toward her at din- 
ner-time, saying that he was worried out of his life about that confounded 
acceptance of Lively Harry’s, and that he was a ruined man if it was 
dishonored. She knew what a chatterer the man was, and that he 
would be sure to go gossiping about it wherever he went ; and then they 
would find that, after all the privations they had undergone to get to 
their present standing in society, they would be avoided and cut by every 
body. He only saw, he said, one way of getting out of it at all, and 
asked his wife whether she would assist him in it. Whereupon Mrs. 
Nicholls said she would help in any way that lay in her power ; but 
what could she do ? 

“ Why my dear,” answered Mr. Nicholls, “ you see, if I could only 
manage to take up this bill, the same party you know, would, of course, 
be too glad to do another for me to any amount ; and then, with that 
I could pay off the carpet-man, and we should be all straight again ; for 
the premium we shall get for the other house will just come in handy 
to take up the next bill. So that you see, Sara, we shall be certain to 
be all right for the future, if we can only get over this confounded tempo- 
rary difficulty.” • 

Mrs. Nicholls agreed with him perfectly, and said she thought, she 
knew what he meant ; adding, that she should never like to write to 
Reuben for money again. 

“ Oh, no ! of course not, my dear,” returned her husband ; “nor should 
I wish you to stoop so low as that. What I mean is this, Sara — 
you see those diamonds that I made you a present of are of no use to 
you just now. You can have no occasion for them for a week or so.” 

“ My dear Wellesley !” cried Mrs. Nicholls ; “ you forget our evening 
party takes place in three days’ time, and I must wear them then.” 

“ Tut ! tut ! tut !” responded Mr. Nicholls. “ How foolish you do talk, 
Sara. I really thought that by this time I had made you understand 
the usages of polite society better. Don’t you know that it’s considered 
etiquette for the lady of the house, when she has a reunion, to let her 
dress be as simple and quiet as she can, so that her guests may have an 
opportunity of displaying their attractions ? I’m sure your ‘ aqua-ma- 
rines’ are as neat, and chaste, and ladylike as any thing you could put 
on, or I should never have dreamed of making the proposal.” 

“ That may be,” replied Mrs. Nicholls ; “ but, after the diamonds, 
I’m sure I shouldn’t be able to bear the look of myself in the other 
things ; and, if it comes to that, why I’d sooner not wear any.” 

“ Well, my dear,” answered her husband, “ you can suit yourself about 
it. All I know is, I must have your diamonds for a few days — unless, 
indeed, you prefer both of us being ruined, and that while my very sister 
is under my roof So it’s no use your pouting, Sara ; but go up-stairs, 

40 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


like a good girl, and get them for me directly ; for I can easily raise 
money enough upon them to get out of this fix, and let you have them 
hack again as soon as I can lay hold of Lively Harry.” 

After a little further persuasion, Mr, Nicholls got the diamonds, and, 
shortly afterward, the money, and in the morning he took up Lively 
Harry’s acceptance ; so that on the night of his party no one would 
have thought, from the happiness of his face, and the splendor and pro« 
fusion of the entertainment, that he had ever been distressed for the want 
of a few pounds. Mrs. Nicholls looked splendid, even in her “ aqua- 
marines,” and Wellesley’s sister was a universal favorite. The rooms 
were crowded to suffocation, and the presence of Lady Verulam gave a 
stamp to the “ which Nicholls said he had been battling for all 

his life. In fact, ever since the opera-box, Mrs. Nicholls had been so 
^ assiduous in her attentions, both to her ladyship and her “ charming 
girls,” that the acquaintance had rapidly ripened into a fashionable 
friendship ; indeed, so much so, that Mrs. Nicholls, when the guests had 
left, and she was alone with her husband in the drawing-room, told 
Wellesley that, while she was talking with Lady Verulam, her ladyship 
had asked her whether she had received an invitation to her Georgiana’s 
approaching wedding ; and that when she assured her ladyship that she 
had not, her ladyship said it was very strange, for the cards had been 
sent, she should say, quite three weeks ago, as her dear girls had set 
their hearts upon her coming, and would never forgive her if she didn’t ; 
and that her ladyship had made her promise to be sure and be there ; 
and that the wedding was to take place in eight days, at St, George’s, 
Hanover-square. Whereupon, Mr. Nicholls, in the pride of his heart, 
told his wife that she had only got to thank him for his having taken 
the opera-box. But Mrs. Nicholls begged to ask who it was that had 
first advised him to have a carriage of his own ; adding, that she should 
like to know if they would ever have been invited to the marriage, if 
they had still been going about in that filthy fly of theirs. So dividing 
the honors, Mr. and Mrs. Nicholls went to bed quite happy. 

All the next day, Wellesley and his wife did nothing but talk about 
their good fortune in getting asked to so fashionable a wedding. Of 
course, he said, the whole account of the proceedings, and a list of the 
parties present, would be given in the papers ; and they would be pub- 
lished to the world as moving in a circle that it had been the ambition 
of his life to reach. Sara must get a splendid new dress for the occa- 
sion ; and he’d hunt up Lively Harry, and get a fresh bill from him, by 
which he could get her diamonds back again, and he had no doubt she 
would create quite a sensation there. 

But, unluckily for Mr. Nicholls’s projects, and to Mrs. Nicholls’s ex- 
treme annoyance. Lively Harry was still nowhere to be found ; where- 
upon, Sara didn’t hesitate to declare that it would be impossible for her 
to think of appearing at so grand an assembly without her brilliants. 
However, her husband made her mind easy by bringing her home on 
the evening before the marriage a much more splendid mite of diamonds 
than her own, which, “ like a good soul,” he had hired for the occasion. 

41 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


When they were ready dressed on the morrow, and Nicholls had sent 
for the carriage, he was astonished at the time the groom took in bring- 
ing it round ; and after a little while he grew so impatient that he went 
into the stables by the back way. On entering them, he found that his 
brougham and horse had been seized in execution for the debt of “ that 
scoundrelly carpet-dealer,” who, in person, had accompanied the bailiff, 
and refused to let it go out of the place unless Mr. Nicholls was prepared- 
to pay down the debt and costs. 

Mr. Nicholls inwardly thanked his stars that, even in this trying 
dilemma, he knew how to behave himself like a gentleman. So, refus- 
ing to bandy words with the tradesman, he turned his back upon the 
fellow, and, slamming the door in his face, returned to his wife, to break 
to her the terrible news. 

It had so startling an effect on Mrs. Nicholls, that no sooner had she 
heard what had happened, than she fell into hysterics, and sobbed and 
laughed so loudly, that, much to Mr. NichoUs’s annoyance, his wife’s 
cries brought his sister and the servants to her aid ; and he saw that 
there was little chance of the seizure being kept a secret. 

When they had led the besatined and bejeweled Mrs. Nicholls up to 
her room, Wellesley pulled off his white kid gloves, and wrote a letter 
to Lady Verulam, in which he told her that, owing to the sudden and 
dangerous illness of one of his dear children, he regretted that their 
duties as parents would prevent Mr. and Mrs. WeUesley Nicholls being 
present at the Honorable Miss Georgiana Verulam’s wedding that morn- 
ing. And then, dispatching the note by the groom, he turned round in 
his chair, and, fixing his eyes on the ceiling, busied himself with think- 
ing how on earth he could prevent his carriage being “ sold by order of 
the sheriff.” 


42 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


CHAPTER VI. 

Lively Harry was still not to he heard of at his club, and, at last, 
after wasting two days, Mr. Nicholls was informed by his friend Fred 
Gordon, that he had gone into the north, grouse shooting, though he 
did not know exactly where, so there was no hope of relief in that 
quarter. 

Both Wellesley and his wife puzzled their brains to discover some 
plan which was to save them and their carriage ; and Nicholls, at her 
suggestion, tried to borrow the money from one or two of their fashion- 
able friends, stating that he had unexpectedly been called upon to pay a 
large sum, for which, “ in a moment of foolish generosity,” he had made 
himself responsible for a friend ; and that he would esteem it a great 
favor if they could let him have fifty pounds for a few weeks, to make up 
the amount, until he could receive an answer from his father. Sir Giles. 
But one was about making a trip on the Continent, and had obtained 
letters of credit abroad for all the money he had at his banker’s ; and 
another had paid a heavy bill the very day before ; and a third had all 
his money locked up in speculation : but they were all extremely sorry, 
and begged to be allowed to sympathize with Mr. Nicholls in his mis- 
fortune. 

When it came to the day before the sale, Mr. Nicholls grew so des- 
perate, that he agreed with his wife that any thing would be preferable 
to having their brougham taken from them. He had no time to raise 
any money on his furniture ; and somehow or other every body seemed 
to turn their backs upon him — even the very people who had been feast- 
ing and dancing in his house a week or two ago. It would never do to 
let the carriage be sold. It would be all over the neighborhood in a few 
days’ time, and then he was a ruined man. Of course, it would tell 
every one as plainly as it could speak, that he couldn’t afibrd to keep it, 
and stamp him as a beggar to the whole world. After all it had done 
for them, too ! Was it likely that Lady Verulam would have asked 
them to her daughter’s wedding, if they hadn’t been “ carriage people ?” 
And, as he paced up and down the room, his wife asked him if he 
didn’t think Lady Verulam would assist them ? Her ladyship had 
always been very kind to her, she said, and had made a good deal of 
her, and she didn’t mind writing to her ; for, looking at it again, she 
really thought her ladyship would lend them the money. They could 
make the same excuse as before, and there could be no harm in trying. 

Nicholls said, yes, but there would be harm ; and if her ladyship 
were to refuse, he would never forgive himself — for there would be an 
end, of course, to one of their best acquaintances. And yet, he felt, 

43 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


he oughtn’t to leave a stone unturned so long as there was a^chance 
left ; though he would as lief cut his ears off as do it. Though, to he 
sure, it wouldn’t look so very bad, after all ; for Sara could say that 
he had a particular payment of j£500 to make the next day, and 
she could score under “ particular,” to make it seem as if it were a debt 
of honor, and that he had only got £450 at his banker’s, and, unfor- 
tunately, couldn’t sell out of the funds, on account of its being a holiday 
at the Bank of England on the morrow ; for, of course. Lady Verulam 
would never know whether it was a holiday or not. On which his 
wife observed, that, under those circumstances, she thought the story 
would appear more true if he wrote the letter himself And Wellesley, 
on second thoughts, being of the same opinion, sat down ; and, having 
written as much to her ladyship, dispatched it by the groom, directing 
him to wait for an answer. 

When Nicholls read her ladyship’s reply, he crumpled it up savagely 
in his hand, and flung it, with an oath, in the fire, saying that the car- 
riage might go, and the house after it, as, indeed, he supposed it would, 
soon ; adding (like most gentlemen who get into difficulties of their own 
making), that there seemed to be a fate hanging over him, and that it 
was useless to attempt to stand up against it. 

As soon as Mr. Nicholls had cooled down a little, his wife — who, of 
late, had grown half afraid of speaking to her husband when he was in 
one of those fits of passion, which every day now became more frequent 
— gained courage sufficient to ask him what were the contents of her 
ladyship’s note. Wellesley told her it was a mere put off — a trumpery 
excuse, saying that the expense of her daughter’s wedding and marriage 
settleihent had been such, that, ah — that she — ah — he forgot the exact 
words — but the long and short of it was, she either couldn’t, or, more 
likely, wouldn’t do it. But, he continued, he wouldn’t have cared so 
much about that. What annoyed him the most was, she said she was 
so short of money for the moment, that, at the very time my letter 
arrived, she was about writing to me for the £90 for the opera-box. 
However, he added, the mean, old rouged-up thing can’t have it yet 
awhile, so she must wait ; saying her ladyship might take it just as she 
liked, and it didn’t matter to him two straws how. All he wished to 
heaven was, that he had never seen the opera-box or Lady Verulam, or 
carriage, or horse, or furniture, or any thing at all, and the sooner he 
was clear of them all the better. On Mrs. Nicholls trying to soothe him, 
by assuring him that every thing would turn out for the best, he only 
grew more wild, and upbraided her as the cause of all his distress ; so 
that they passed the remainder of the evening, she in tears, and he in 
surly silence. 

The carriage was sold in due course, and Nicholls, to brave it out, 
hired a fly and horse as much like his own as possible, and made a 
point of going into the Park for several days afterward. For, in the 
importance which he attached to himself, he made certain that every 
body in town must have heard of the seizure, and he wished to show 
them that the report was nothing more than a malicious slander. 

44 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


Ill one of his afternoon drives he passed Lady Verulam’s carriage, and 
was wounded to the very quick of his pride on seeing her ladyship turn 
her head in an opposite direction. 

Mr. Nicholls’s tradesmen, however, taking a greater interest in him 
than the rest of the world, soon became acquainted with the circum- 
stance of the seizure and sale ; and, growing alarmed about the safety 
of their money, kept obliging him, one after another, with copies of 
their accounts, and requesting immediate payment, as they had all — 
strange to saj — heavy bills to meet in a few days’ time ; so that Mr. 
Nicholls, finding his credit stopped in the neighborhood, was not sorry 
when a letter arrived informing him that Sir Giles had suddenly been 
seized with illness, and requesting Miss Nicholls to return home as soon 
as possible. 

Luckily for Mr. Nicholls, the return of Lively Harry to town enabled 
him to get another bill cashed, and so provided him with the means of 
paying ready money for such household articles as he had previously been 
in the habit of procuring on credit ; while, by the aid of dextrous 
excuses and faithful promises of speedy payment, he managed to pre- 
vent his tradesmen from resorting to quicker and harsher means of 
obtaining their money. 

Mr. Nicholls now began to hope that he should be able to weather 
out the storm until his next quarter came round, or, at least, until he 
could find a tenant for his old house, and so get the X200 premium, 
which would put him all right with the world again. But, unfortu- 
nately, his golden dreams were all dissipated by a visit from the jeweler. 
The firm had twice sent in his account, and called two or three times 
for their money ; but Mr. Nicholls, not considering the claim a very 
pressing one, had never troubled himself about attending to it. He had 
expected at the least one, if indeed he were not entitled to two years’ 
credit ; and he couldn’t for the life of him understand what they meant 
by dunning him in that way. 

When Mr. Nicholls saw the jeweler, he didn’t hesitate to tell the 
man as much ; on which^the jeweler said that he had to apologize for 
troubling him so soon, but the firm had a large payment to make toward 
the end of the week, and they thought they might venture to ask Mr. 
Nicholls, as a favor, to let them have fifty pounds on account. Where- 
upon Mr. Nicholls replied very abruptly that he certainly should not 
think of doing any thing of the kind, and that he had his payments to 
make, and that he should take the same credit as his father always had. 
On this the jeweler expostulated, saying, that really the diamonds had 
been sold such a bargain that the firm had always looked upon it as a 
ready money transaction, and had expected to receive the amount of 
their bill long before this ; which threw Mr. Nicholls into a great pas- 
sion ; and he said that he could not understand what the firm meant, 
for he had told their young man at the time, and as plainly as he could 
speak, that they would have to wait for their money ; the young man 
had said that they had no fear about that, even if it were ten times the 
amount. To which the jeweler hesitatingly replied, that they certainly 

45 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; . OR, 


had no fear then. Whereupon, Mr. Wellesley Nicholls threw down the 
morning’ paper, and, rising up in his chair, inquired of the jeweler what 
he meant by his having no fear then. Did he mean to infer that he 
had any fear now ? This made the jeweler stammer as he told Mr. 
Nicholls that he didn’t exactly wish to be understood in than light ; but 
that all gentlemen, the firm were well aware, were subject to misfor- 
tunes ; and that they had been deeply grieved to hear of the seizure of 
Mr. Nicholls’s carriage for a trifling amount ; and they thought that, 
as they had had dealings with his respected father so long,. Mr. Nicholls 
wouldn’t allow them to suffer ; and that, though they were perfectly 
satisfied with his honor, still, under the circumstances, from what had 
come to their ears, they were afraid that all — ^that is — it was an ex- 
tremely unpleasant business to speak about, and he trusted Mr. Nicholls 
would make every allowance. But, to be plain, the firm had come to 
the conclusion that they would be happy to forego their account if Mr. 
Nicholls would let them have the diamonds back, and that then they 
would not think of charging him any thing for the use of them. Mr. 
Nicholls bit his lips, and trembled with passion and fear, as he heard the 
man stammer out the proposal, which he knew it was out of his power 
to comply with ; and, drawing up himself haughtily, he looked sternly 
at the jeweler, and demanded how he dare come into his house and 
make such a proposal to the son of one of their oldest customers. But 
they should repent the day as long as they lived. And then, observing 
the man about to reply, he commanded him not to say another syllable, 
but to leave the house directly. Whereupon, the jeweler mutteringly 
observed, that he didn’t see that the proposal was one that Mr. Nicholls 
need fly into a passion about, and that, if he meant honestly toward 
the firm, he wouldn’t, in the present state of his affairs, hesitate to con- 
sent to it. 

Mr. Nicholls grew purple with rage, and he said, between his teeth, 
“ The present state of my affairs ! Mean honestly ! Listen to me, sir; 
you’re the first person that ever dared to question my honor, and if you 
were not a person beneath my notice, it should not drop here. Perhaps 
you’ll say next that I’ve been and made away with your trumpery 
jewelry ?” 

“ You know best about that yourself, sir,” returned the jeweler, sar- 
castically. 

“ Leave my house, you scoundrel !” cried Mr. Nicholls. “ Get out of 
my house this very moment, unless you want me to turn you out !” 

“ Oh, you needn’t put yourself to that trouble, sir,” said the jeweler, 
doggedly ; “ I’ll send somebody else to you, to whom, perhaps, you will 
learn to be at least civil. And, what’s more, I’ll soon find out whether 
the jewels are in your possession or not — for I’ll go round to all the 
pawnbrokers in the neighborhood ; and if I find out that you’ve been 
making away with our property. I’ll publish the whole transaction to 
the world and ruin you at once. And then, slamming the street door 
after him, he left the house rapidly. 

For a few minutes Mr. Nicholls sat in his chair motionless, doubting 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


whether the jeweler would put his threat into execution, and dreading 
the death-blow that he felt it would he to his reputation if he did. And 



“ He commanded him not to say another syllable, but to leave the house directly." 


he cursed himself and his own thoughtlessness. But there was no time 
for remorse. He must stir himself, and try to prevent the disco ver}\ 
He had between twenty and thirty pounds in the house, and, what with 
his own and his wife’s watch, and her trinkets, he could scrape together 
a sum large enough to get the diamonds back again before the fellow 
found out where they were pledged, and then he’d go to the jeweler’s 
shop and fling them at his head, and give him to understand that he 
was a different man from what he seemed to take him for. 

Hastily collecting the several articles together, Mr. Nicholls rushed 
out of the house, and made his way as fast as he could to the shop 
where the brilliants were in pledge, having, on the road, pulled his hat 
over his eyes, and turned up his coat collar, so as to avoid recognition. 

47 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


When he reached the shop, having looked cautiously round, to see that 
no one who knew him was near, he darted in, and, to his horror, discov- 
ered the jeweler himself in close conference with the man behind the 
counter. The noise of the door swinging to made the jeweler turn 
round, and, when he saw Mr. Nicholls, he burst into a contemptuous 
laugh, and looked at him from head to foot, with a sneer on his lips. 

“So, I wasn’t far out, my fine gentleman, after all, eh ?” began the 
jeweler, “ though I am the first person that ever dared to question your 
honor. But I’ll take good care that I won’t be the last : for if I don’t 
make the whole neighborhood, ring with your roguery, why. I’ll forgive 
you the debt. You turn me out of your house, will you ? I can teU 
you what it is, Mr. Wellesley Nicholls ; it shan’t be long before I turn 
you out of it.” 

Mr. Nicholls, without waiting to hear any further, turned on his heel, 
and made for the street ; but the enraged jeweler, determined not to 
leave him, followed quickly after, abusing him as he went, and calling 
him “ Swindler !” “ Rogue !” “ Impostor !” “ Scoundrel !” and declaring 
that he would publish the whole transaction to the world in a court of 
law, and that he was glad to lose the jewels, if it was only for the sat- 
isfaction of exposing him. So that Mr. Nicholls, finding a crowd col- 
lecting at his heels, was glad to jump into the first cab he met, in order 
to get rid of his troublesome companion. 

On reaching home, rushing up into his wife’s room, he told her to get 
every thing as quickly as she coiild, for he must get out of the confounded 
house and into the country somewhere, or he was a ruined man. When 
his wife inquired the reason, he told her to mind her own business, and 
to do her duty and get the things ready, as he had directed. 

“But what have I done, Wellesley, that you should fly out at me 
sol” returned Mrs. Nicholls, half frightened at her husband’s wild ap- 
pearance. “ I declare, you are quite an altered man of late, and one 
can’t open one’s mouth without your getting into a passion directly.” 

“ No, Fve not altered, Sara ; it’s my circumstances that have altered, 
not me,” answered Nicholls, throwing himself on the sofa, and dashing 
his long hair from his forehead. “ But you don’t know how I’m worried, 
and hunted, and maddened by a pack of hounds of creditors, barking and 
yelping at my heels. Turn which way I will, there are nothing but 
‘ bills ! bills ! bills !’ Oh, God ! oh, God ! what will become of us all ?” 

“ Come, Wellesley, dear,” expostulated Mrs. Nicholls, kissing him ; 
“ Come, don’t give way in this manner. Let me go and fetch you some 
wine — it will revive you. Why, what ever can have happened — eh, 
dear?” 

“ Oh ! nothing, nothing !” replied Nicholls. “ There, don’t speak to 
me about it, unless you want to drive me wild. .Let’s talk about 
something else; and ring the bell for a glass of water Tor me^for I’m 
ready to drop.” 

“Well, then,” replied Mrs. Nicholls, turning the conversation with an 
assumed cheerfulness, “ where do you think of going to in the country — 
eh, Wdlesley, dear ?” , 


48 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


“ Oh ! any where — any where !” answered Mr. Nicholls, “ so long as 
it’s out of the way, and those dogs of creditors won’t be able to track 
me. We’ve got no money to go fooling away at Brighton, or Hastings, 
or on the Continent — though that would he the safest place, after all. 
So we must find out some little, poking country place, where we can 
hide in security until the storm has blown over.” 

“ Well, then,” returned Mrs. Nicholls, “ I tell you what, Wellesley, 
we had much better go down to Reuben ; for, you know, he’s always 
bothering us about our never going down to see him ; and we could 
take the children and stop a month there well, without any expense. 
Besides, he’d take it quite as an honor your visiting him, and would be 
60 pleased to see us.” 

“ Yes,” answered Nicholls, with a sigh, “ that would have been the 
very place for us, certainly ! But, hang it ! there’s the letter you sent 
him ; it would never do to go fawning and cringing to a man whom we 
insulted only a week or two ago.” 

However, to his great delight, his wife told him that she had thought 
it best, after Reuben’s offer — which, to say the least, had been kindly 
meant — to write a grateful letter to him, instead of the one Wellesley 
had wished her to send ; alleging, by way of an excuse, that her hus- ' 
band found out all about the debt, and had paid the bill for her. Where- 
upon, Mr. Nicholls kissed his wife, and said she was a dear, good girl, 
and had quite put him in good spirits again ; and told her to write to 
her brother that very evening, to know whether it would be convenient 
for him to receive them ; and, if so, to say that they would be with 
him on Sunday next. For Wellesley informed his wife that, as matters 
stood at present, it wouldn’t be prudent for him to put himself in the 
way of being served with a writ by venturing outside the house on a 
week day. 

Directly Mrs. Nicholls had written and sent the letter, she (at her 
husband’s suggestion) set to work and covered up the blinds with old 
newspapers, and closed the shutters in front of the house, so that it might 
appear as if the family were out of town, which he directed the servants 
to say to every body that called. 

To avoid being seen, they lived in the back drawing-room, trembling 
at every knock that came to the door, and passing the time in continual 
bickerings, for with his growing distresses Mr. Nicholls had become too 
distracted to be civil. 

However, Reuben’s answer was so fuU of kindness and hearty friend- 
ship, that the prospect of their speedy deliverance from their troubles 
made them both brighten up a little, and live amicably until the Sunday 
arrived. Then they were up before it was light, and out long before any 
one was gtirring, oft their way to Nine Elms, so as to catch the first train 
to Farnham. 

But though their spirits rose as they left London — the scene of their 
troubles — behind them, still they both inwardly felt considerable uneasi- 
ness at the idea of meeting a brother whom they had almost spurned, 
and they pondered over what excuses they could make on seeing him. 

D 49 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD} OR, 


CHAPTER. VII. 

The homestead of Reuben Marsh was situated a few miles on the 
other side of Farnham ; so that when Mr. and Mrs. Nicholls arrived 
at the nearest railway station, they had still some distance to go, and 
therefore resolved to take breakfast at the Railway Hotel, and then have 
a post-chaise — as it would never do to let Reuben fancy that their cir- 
cumstances were in any way altered, or that their difficulties were the 
cause of their coming to visit him. 

It was twelve o’clock before they reached the gate of the farm, when 
they found that the whole family had gone to church, and there was 
only the maid to receive them — who had quite as much as she could do 
to keep the dogs quiet, for they would come yelping and sniffing round 
them, as if they were strangers. 

Mrs. Nicholls was almost delighted at the absence of Reuben and 
his wife ; for she half dreaded to meet her brother, and was glad to have 
the welcomes deferred for a short time ; although Wellesley looked upon 
the family’s being out in rather a different light : for, he said, if he had 
known that there would have been nobody at home to receive them, he 
should never have gone putting himself to the expense of a post-chaise. 

Sara felt a melancholy pleasure on returning to the place where she 
had passed her simple, unpretending girlhood ; and, as she looked around, 
every object had connected with it some pleasant — and yet, she could 
not help feeling, some humiliating — associations. At the sight of every 
familiar object, there was a battle in her breast between her pride and 
her affection. It was pleasant to have each little incident of her happy 
youth brought back so vividly to her mind ; and yet it was almost pain- 
ful — for she dreaded that it might some day come to the ears of her 
fashionable friends, that the elegant Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls had been 
born and bred in such a place. 

There were the bright tins and coppers, as usual, arranged over the 
mantle-piece, polished like mirrors ; and they gave her a slight thrill as 
she thought that her hands had once cleaned and brightened them up 
every Saturday morning, for ten years at least ; but she couldn’t help 
wondering who did it now. The tiles of the floor, too, were as red as 
ever ; and so were the old geranium pots — what a time they had had 
those geraniums! She declared that there was thfe nettle — one that 
young James Walker, of the “ Poplar,” had given her on her seven- 
teenth birthday. And then, if there were not as many as seven hams 
hanging up ! Why, they never killed more than two pigs a year when 
she was with them ; and she wondered who helped Molly to cure the 
hams now, and how the last they had done together had turned out, 

50 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


and how red it used to make her hands look. Over the mantle-piece, 
too, there was still poor father’s sword that he had worn when he was a 
volunteer ; but her eye quickly turned from this, for she remembered 
what Reuben had told her of his smugglings to pay the old man’s debts, 
and how she had never helped him even with a sixpence ; so she went 
toward the window, with its red curtains, and began examining some of 
the cards and bills that were stuck in the little lozenge-shaped panes. 
So Reuben still had his malt from Edwards, of F amham ; and she won- 
dered whether his son was married yet ; and what an annoyance it 
would be if she were to meet them there — she must be friendly to them, 
and then Wellesley would think she was lowering herself And then 
she wandered back to the chimney-piece, and found the little black 
velvet sweep that she remembered cutting out, now near thirteen years 
ago ; and there were the little straw ornaments, tied up with blue rib- 
bons that she had made to hold Reuben’s pipe-lights ; but she was a 
raw country girl then, and had no notion of taste : and she was roused 
from her reverie by old “ Wolf,” the sheep-dog, standing watching her, 
as if he knew her : he was quite a pup when Mr. M'Neil, the cattle- 
dealer, gave it to them ; and how ugly he had grown, and how dirty he 
looked ; how could she ever have noticed such a thing as that ? Then 
she went into the farm-yard to look for her husband, whom she found in 
the stables with one of the men, looking at Reuben’s nag. Jack, which 
he said was a capital, serviceable beast enough, no doubt, and he dare 
say, a good trotter ; though he added, with a laugh, that it wouldn’t 
make much of a figure in Hyde Park. 

When Reuben came back he was main glad, as he said, to see the 
pair on ’em, and he half crushed his sister’s bonnet kissing her, and shook 
Nicholls so violently by the hand that his fingers were numbed by the 
grip ; nor would he hear a word of the excuses they had arranged, and 
were stammering out, telling them that now they had come it was all 
past and done with, and to let bygones be bygones ; and told them that 
now he had got them there, he would keep them ; and Molly said that 
Reuben might do what he liked with Nicholls, but that she would have 
Sally all to herself, and that she would warrant she’d bring the color 
back to her pretty cheeks again, for she had got plenty for both her and 
the blessed little bairns to do. And then they both wanted to see the 
children ; and, on hearing from Mrs. Nicholls that they were up-stairs, 
with the maid to have their hair done, Reuben said, “ Stuff and non- 
sense !” ^nd sent Molly up-stairs to bring them down just as they were, 
to see their old uncle Rue. And when they came, he took the two 
little boys, and^put one on each knee, and kept telling them, much to 
Nicholls’ s horror, who smiled all the while, that he knew they were the 
boys for pudding ; and whether they liked apple-pie and custards, for 
they were going to have some for dinner that day ; and whether they 
would go milking the cows on the morrow morning, and have some nice 
hot milk ; and whether they had ever made any hay, for he wanted 
some laborers, and he would give them a halfpenny a day and their 
beer ; or whether they would ride the pony — but he knew they would 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


like the hay best. The boys, however, blushed, and said they should 
like the pony best ; but Reuben would have it that they preferred the 



He took the two little boys, put one on each knee, and kept telling them that he knew 


they were the boys for pudding.” 


hay-making, and that he would make their purty little laughing faces 
as brown as berries before he had done with them ; and then he told 
Nicholls and Sally that he had made up his mind to get all the neigh- 
bors over to meet them, and have a country dance or two, for he knew 
that Sally would be glad to see all her old friends and sweethearts again ; 
which in no way pleased either Sally or her husband, though they both 
smiled, and said it was very good of him, they were sure. 

While the cloth was being laid for dinner, Molly asked Nicholls if 
he drank ale ; because, if not, she had got some excellent currant and 

52 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


cowslip wine, which ever he liked ; hut Nicholls said that there was 
nothing he liked so much as good country ale, which put Reuben in 
such spirits that he told him that he would give him a glass that he 
couldn’t get for miles round ; and how long it had been brewed ; and 
how much malt and hops he generally put in ; and that he needn’t be 
afeard of it, for there wasn’t a headache in a hogshead of such as that. 

After dinner he told Molly to take the lass and the bairns into the 
meadow and round the yard! a bit, and show ’em the httle lambs, 
and the calf, and the poultry, and other sights, while he and Nicholls 
sat and chatted awhile ; and when they had gone, he pressed Nicholls 
to take a cigar, for he supposed a pipe would be more than a Londoner 
could manage ; on which the polite Mr. Nicholls said, yes, he was 
afraid it would be too much for him, though he wished to heaven he 
could get over it, for he had heard bid smokers say that the flavor was 
so much better than that of a cigar. And then he asked him if he had 
brought his gun with him, for he could give him some prime shooting, 
as he got him permission to shoot over neighbor Wheatley’s farm — and 
he had more land than any one that side of Farnham ; and then there 
was his own farm, too ; so that he might reckon upon good sport. On 
which Nicholls asked him whether the birds were plentiful that year ; 
on which Reuben told him that that very morning, going to church 
across the eight acre-field, his little spaniel. Dash, had started a covey of 
as fine birds as he ever seed in his life ; he should say there was as 
many as twelve partridges in it, at least. And then he told him, if he 
was fond of coursing, that, now the hop-poles were down, he could have 
some fine sport, for he got young Jack Wheeler, of the Poplars, as 
used to be a sweetheart of Sally’s, to promise to lend him his gray- 
hounds : one of them run uncommom cunning, to be sure ; the black 
’un, Nero, had beaten all the matches round about, and there wasn’t a 
hound in all the country that could come nigh him, and that he had 
spiked himself twice, and wasn’t a bit the worse for it. 

At tea he asked Mr. and Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls if they thought 
they should be able to get down in the morning before dinner-time 
and it shouldn’t be any fault of his if they didn’t, for he would come 
with the horn that he called his men into their meals with, and blow 
it right against the door, at six o’clock to a minute, and give them 
a run out in the fields before breakfast, and he’d warrant that Sally 
should come back with an appetite for breakfast that she hadn’t had 
ever since she left them : and she could get Molly to show her where 
she used to make the bread — and he wondered what kind of a loaf she 
could make now ; and she should try her hand at a bit of churning again ; 
and kept reminding Mrs. Nicholls, to her great annoyance, of several 
other little humble offices, that, ten years ago, had been her special care, 
so that she and her husband were not sorry when the time came for re- 
tiring for the night. 

In the morning, being very fine, Reuben took Nicholls over his fields, 
to show him his live stock and crops, and pointed out to him such a 
field of turnips as would do a man good to look at ; so that by the time 

53 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


he had got back, Reuben laughingly told him that they must have gone 
five miles if they had gone a step, and asked him whether he felt shaky 
about the knees, and whether he’d prefer ale instead of tea with his cold 
meat for breakfast. 

And so nearly a week went by, Nicholls now shooting and riding 
about the country, or fishing in the trout stream close by ; Mrs Nicholls, 
going about with Molly, and half reluctantly helping in her various 
homely duties ; while the children, when they had tired out the pony, 
went jumping and hallooing about the carts, so happy and rosy, that, 
as Reuben said, it was worth while walking ten miles any day to see, 
and he must keep them down there,* and make young farmers of them. 

One afternoon, as Mr. Nicholls was fishing in the stream, which was 
about five fields distant from Reuben’s house, his attention was taken 
off the trout that had risen once or twice to his fly, by hearing his own 
name shouted out in a voice that broke upon the stillness of the place 
so abruptly, that it quite startled him. On turning round, he saw 
Reuben trudging along the turnip-field, and a stranger, in a surtout, 
with a coat upon his arm, clambering over the gate after him. As 
Reuben advanced toward him, he kept calling out “Nicholls, Nicholls, 
here be a young friend of thine come to see thee.” 

When the young friend drew near, Nicholls judged from his dress 
that he was from London, and not remembering to have ever seen his 
features before, he turned slightly pale, for he had his misgivings that 
his whereabouts had become known. 

Reuben told Wellesley, that, as the gentleman had come down on 
particular business, he thought he had better bring him over to him 
directly, especially as the gentleman wouldn’t stop and take a bed, but 
wanted to get back to town that night. 

The gentleman then approached Mr. Nicholls, and, drawing him 
aside, told him that he was sorry to say that he had got a copy of a 
writ for him, at the suit of Messrs. Soane and Co., the jewelers. The 
blood mounted to Mr. Nicholls’s face as the young man handed to him 
the small slip of paper, and, eying him scornfully from head to toe, he 
asked him how he dare intrude upon his privacy, and told him that his 
employers were a pack of scoundrels not to have written to him before 
taking any proceedings against him. The young man was beginning to 
tell Mr. Nicholls that he need not vent his rage upon him, as he was 
merely doing his duty as a clerk, when Mr. Nicholls told him sharply, 
that he wanted to bandy no words with a fellow like him, and that he 
had better be oft', or he would give him such a ducking in the stream 
that he wouldn’t forget it in a hurry ; whereupon the young gentleman 
threw himself in an attitude of defense, and said he should like to see 
him do it. 

At this juncture Reuben stepped forward and inquired what was the 
matter ; and when the young man told him that Mr. Nicholls had in- 
sulted him because he had served him with a writ, that he had come 
down there to keep out of the way of, Reuben said it was no fault of the 
lad s, and that Mr . Nicholls ought to remember that, however unpleasant 

04 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


the matter might he to him, still the poor lad wasn’t exactly the party 
that he should go abusing ; and then telling the young gentleman to go 
back to the farm and get himself something to eat, which, however, he 
declined, and took his departure, leaving Mr. Nicholls alone with Reu- 
ben, who smiled half contemptuously, as he now saw the cause of his 
brother-in-law’s first visit to him these ten years. “ Well, Mr. Nicholls,” 
began Reuben, slowly, “ did ye ever know the feelings of a man who, 
when a body do lead him to believe that he be wishing to make a friend 
on him, finds out that the fellow only wanted to make a tool on him, 
after alU” 

“ What do you mean ?” asked Mr. Nicholls, pretending to be so busily 
engaged in disentangling his line, that he could not take his eyes from it, 
even to look at his brother-in-law as he put the question to him. 

“ This be what I mean,” answered Reuben. “ For ten years gone 
thee and thy wife, my own dear sister Sally, did turn thy backs upon 
» me and Molly, as if thee wert ashamed on us ; and now, when the bailies 
are after thee, and thee be wanting a place to hide thy head in, thee can 
think it worth thy while to come smiling and scraping to us, as if thee 
had come in love to me, and not in mercy to thyself.” 

Mr. Nicholls, stung to find that the motives of his visit were detected, 
dropped his line, and, drawing himself up haughtily, said, “ Mr. Reuben 
Marsh, if you can think me capable of making your home my house of 
refuge, the sooner I leave it the better ; so, if you please, we will return 
to town this evening.” 

“No thee shan’t, Wellesley,” replied Reuben — “no thee shan’t; thee 
knowest thee hast made it a house of refuge for thee, and thy brother 
will make it thy home. Now come, man, look in my face and say was 
Reuben ever slow to serve thee ; then why mistrust his friendship, and 
come to his door with a lie on thy lips * 

“A lie!” echoed Mr. Wellesley Nicholls. “If you were not the 
brother, sir, of my wife, your blood should blot out the stain.” 

“ Yes, I know all about that,” answered Reuben ; “ but you see, Mr. 
Nicholls, as I be the brother of your wife, I don’t mind about speaking 
the plain truth to thee. So come, none of your tantrums, man ; Reuben 
be thy friend, and a truer un than thee hast in all thy London folk. So 
come, let us know what that there writ be about, and may be we can 
set it all straight for thee.” 

“ When I ask you for your assistance,” replied Mr. Nicholls, with a 
sneer, “ then it will be quite time enough for you to proffer it.” 

“Nay, nay,” continued Reuben, “it be a poor friend that wait till 
he be asked. So come, let’s see what it be for and picking the writ 
up from the ground, where Mr. Nicholls had thrown it, he was about 
to read it, when Wellesley snatched it from his hand, saying, that it 
was an unwarrantable liberty, and one that no gentleman would be 
guilty of 

This made Reuben half angry, but he only replied, “ Out upon thee, 
man ! thee beest stupid, and so main proud, that danged if thee doant 
make a favor of having a good turn done thee. Come, man, be plain, 

55 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


will a hundred pound serve thee ? for I did tell Sally Ij\vould gie her 
as much some weeks gone, and may be the bill thee paid for her has 
made thy money run short ; so come, will thee please to let me*"serve 
thee ?” 

When Mr. Nicholls heard this, he gradually relaxed his dignified bear- 
ing, saying, “ Please! You might have spared me tltat, Reuben. Do 
' not imagine that I am too proud to be sensible to kindness, though I 
certainly must own that I am still proud enough to avoid presuming 
upon it. I may have behaved somewhat underhandedly to you, and I 
can readily understand your feelings on the discovery of it ; but still you 
should remember that a man naturally wishes to keep his misfortunes as 
much to himself as possible ; besides, I knew your goodness at heart, 
and consequently was the more anxious to prevent your becoming ac- 
quainted with my distress, lest I might encroach upon the kindness 
which you now so generously force upon me. But come, Reuben,” he 
continued, holding out his hand, “ let us forget the past, and be better 
friends for the future.” 

As they walked homeward, Mr. Nicholls informed Reuben how the 
writ was for a debt that he owed a jeweler for some diamonds which 
his dear Sara — foolish, vain girl — would go falling in love with, and 
which he should have been able to pay had it not been that he accident- 
ally learned that Sara had written to Reuben to borrow a hundred and 
odd pounds to discharge a bill that his stupid little pet had contracted 
unknown to him, and which he paid with the money that he had 
set aside for the diamonds ; for, as he told her at the time, he could 
never think of allowing her to become a burden to her kind brother, 
however ready he might be to help her ; indeed, the whole affair had 
preyed upon his mind for some time past, and he had lost, through it, he 
was really afraid to say how much money ; in fact, he had business at 
that very moment — business in town of a most pressing nature, and 
which, of course, he must have thrown up if it had not been for Reuben’s 
kindness. 

'' Poor Reuben was delighted to hear all this, and immediately on his 
return home, gave Nicholls a check for the amount of the writ, telling 
him to get back to his business, and when he could find a spare week or 
two, to remember that there was always a bed and a hearty welcome 
waiting for him at Farnham. 

The next morning Nicholls and his family started for town, and the 
first thing he did on arriving there was to get the check changed, after 
which he sat down to write a letter’ to the jeweler’s lawyers, telling them 
to send for the money. While he was doing so a knock came to the door, 
which Mr. Nicholls no sooner heard than he took the notes from his 
pocket-book, and, spreading them out on the table before him, awaited 
the entrance of the visitor. - 

It was Lively Harry, who, being in the neighborhood, had just called 
to see if he had returned to town, and, taking the easy chair, he asked 
Wellesley where he had been staying ; and on learning from him that 
he had just taken a run down to Harrowgate with Mrs. Nicholls for 

56 


1 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


the benefit ^of the waters, Lively Harry had got something to say about 
every one there ; and in the midst of one of his stories, seeing the display 
of notes on the table, he broke off* by saying, “ By-the-hy, Nicholls, my 
boy, do you feel inclined to do a bit of sporting? ” and on Mr. Nicholls 
inquiring into the nature of the sport. Lively Harry informed him that 
he had got up a pigeon-match at the club for five-and-twenty pounds a 
side, with a young fellow there who was cockering himself up with the 
idea that he was a crack shot, though he would bet three hats to one, 
any day, to give him his two barrels, and then heat him. It was to 
come off at the Bed House, and all the nobs would he there, and, if he 
liked, Nicholls might back him. Young Lord Cressey, hacked the 
other fellow, and it would be just the thing for Nicholls, for he would 
introduce him to some of the best men in London there, and he was sure 
of his money ; besides, what was twenty-five pounds to Nicholls, even 
for one moment supposing that that young muff should win the match, 
which it -was next to impossible that he should, with such an old hand 
as himself against him. So if Wellesley would, he had better give him 
the money, and Lively Harry would go and hand it over to the stake- 
holder, and then Nicholls could go with him and meet Lord Cressey in 
the evening, and arrange all about the time and distance, &c. 

Elated at the idea of being mixed up with the fine people Lively Harry 
had spoken of, and seeing such a safe prospect of so speedily doubling the 
money he risked, Nicholls handed Lively Harry the notes ; and when he 
heard the street door slam to as the gentleman left, he threw himself back 
in his chair, and saw that unless he could come to some terms with the 
lawyers, he was a ruined man. 


57 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


CHAPTER VIII. 

Buried in his arm-chair, the young barrister, motionless as a sitting 
hen, passed a quiet half hour in assuring himself that he was ruined — 
ruined — without hope, ruined : until, as if enraged at meeting with no 
contradiction, he rose suddenly, and pushing the chair violently from him, 
paced nervously up and down the room, stamping clouds of dust out of 
the roses in his Brussels. 

When the clean-Berlined Parker, with his hair freshly wetted, opened 
the door to announce that “dinner was on table,’’ he found his master 
stretched at full length upon the sofa, and in such deep thought, that it 
took three coughs and a sneeze before the boy could make his presence 
known. 

Then, with an efibrt, Mr. Wellesley Nicholls called home his thoughts, 
which, in his pecuniary distress, had strayed as far as Boulogne — that 
bourn from which so few travelers return ; and thinking it would be a 
good way of breaking the melancholy news to his Sara — whose opinion 
on the subject he rather dreaded — ^he dismissed the boy, saying he would 
rather not take any dinner, and that his mistress was to sit down with- 
out him. 

Just as he had imagined, in about two minutes he heard the rustling 
of Mrs. NichoUs’s silk dress on the stairs, and, jumping from the sofa he 
again commenced his violent exercise of pacing the room at the rate of 
five miles per hour. 

Mrs. Nicholls had rushed up-stairs in the full belief that her Welles- 
ley, to refuse his dinner, must have been suddenly seized with illness. 
But when, on opening the door, she beheld him with his hair hanging 
over his forehead, and his shirt all crumpled, rushing about the room 
like a madman, she saw in an instant that it was his mind, and not his 
body, that was upset. To add to her misery, he would every now and 
then take up one of the best rosewood chairs, and, as he dashed it down 
again, call himself either a fool, or an ass, or some other equally flatter- 
ing epithet. 

Though cut to the quick about her chairs, still Mrs. N., seeing some- 
thing awful had occurred, thought it more prudent to remain silent 
until the storm had blown over a little. But when she saw her Wel- 
lesley, in his fury, take from the table the open volume of “Court 
Beauties,” and calling himself “a born idiot,” dash it with a good aim, 
and all his might, against the pink rosette of her grand upright, her 
woman’s patience could go no further ; and, trembling for the shepherds 
and shepherdesses on the mantle-piece, she determined, come what 
might, to put an end to the scene. Besides, although Mr. Nicholls 

58 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


grew no cooler, the dinner did every minute. So, with a soothing voice, 
she advanced cautiously toward him, saying, in her most winning 
way, “ Why, Wellesley, my dear — ^my dear Wellesley, what to goodness 
is the matter ? ” 

But what was her horror when Mr. Wellesley Nicholls, untouched by 
her gentle tone and manner, turned sharply round and asked her, as he 
wildly passed his fingers through his hair, “ how she would like to go 
to the workhouse ? ” and considering that not two hours hack he had, in 
that same room, asked her “how she would like to go to the Opera?” 
the poor lady might well feel some little alarm. 

The first thing that struck Mrs. Nicholls, on recovering from her 
surprise, was that she had left the door open. One graceful hound, and 
it was closed. Then turning to her husband — who, terrified at the idea 
that Parker might have heard him, had suddenly grown quite calm — 
she very soon drew from him the full, true, and particular account of his 
last piece of folly. 

“And how on earth I could ever have been such a fool, my dear, I 
can’t tell,” exclaimed the gentleman, as he concluded the story of his 
sufferings. “ Five-and-twenty pounds! And what the deuce did it 
matter to me who shot the pigeons? Well, my pet, the only thing I 
can see is, that the children must he ill again, and we must all go out 
of town as quickly as possible.” 

“ How ridiculously you do talk, Wellesley, dear,” replied Mrs. Nicholls, 
remembering she had two invitations for the following week. “ Haven’t 
the children been ill already twice this season ? There— come down 
stairs, and eat the dinner while it’s hot ; and, after a glass of wine, you’ll 
be able to find out fifty different ways, without going out of town. But, 
first, do put your hair in order — ^there’s a dear ; or the servants will be 
fancying all sorts of things.” 

She gave him one of her side-combs, and, when he had completed his 
toilet, led him down stairs to the dining-room. 

As the chicken and the sherry disappeared, the barrister’s spirits rose 
— ^until at last, with the cheese, all his difficulties had vanished, and he 
had a hundred different schemes to set matters all right again once 
more. 

Directly after tne cloth was cleared, he told his wife what he had de- 
termined on doing. He would go down to that jeweler’s shop himself, 
and make the scoundrel a kind of half apology, to wipe out all ill-feeling 
between them. Then, taking advantage of the moment, when the apology 
had done its work, he would take out his pocket-book and offer the vil- 
lain one-half his bill in notes. A tradesman never refused money ; and, 
of course, would, after receiving half his bill, come to any terms he 
liked for the payment of the remainder. 

Just as Nicholls was on the point of starting there came to the door 
one of those nasty single knocks that sound so much like a bill. Mrs. 
Nicholls, who, after her experience of late, was very clever in these mat- 
ters, immediately jumped up, and with a kind of presentiment that it 
was the butter-man, rushed to the stairs. 

59 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


But this time she was too late ; and before she could say “ Gone to the 
Opera,” the door was opened by one of the maids, who had a cousin in 
the police. It was an oblong, pink, violet-smelling note, brought by a 
young man in a claret livery. He was waiting for the answer, too. So 
Nicholls broke the seal directly ; while Sara, confident that it was 
another invitation, kept asking him, “ Whom can it be from, my dear ? « 
Whom can it be from ? ” 

As Nicholls looked at the signature, he bit his lip, and turned slightly 
pale ; and, when he had read the first line or two, he burst out in a 
mocking chuckle, saying, with every laugh, “ Ha, ha ! delicious !” When 
he had finished it, he threw the paper to Sara, who was still asking 
whom it was from, saying, as he sneered, “There ! that comes of your 
fine friends ! Perhaps you will answer her ladyship’s letter, and tell her 
I am going to the workhouse, and thank her and her opera-box for having 
sent me there so soon. Ninety pounds ! why she talks of pounds as if 
they came to one like dogs — by whistling for. Well, I hope you will 
like the workhouse, my dear Sara.” 

At the word “ workhouse” Mrs. Nicholls glanced at the door. It seem- 
ed as if some fate was hanging over her, for there — despite the patent 
hinges — it stood wide open, and she could hear somebody moving in the 
hall. “Mon Dieu ! Nicholls, taisez-vous,” cried the lady ; “les serv- 
ants pouvez entendez dans le passage.” 

Then Mr. Nicholls, in a tone very little above a whisper, answered 
his wife, “ that he did not care two pins if the whole world knew it, for 
in a few weeks every body would hear of it, and then it would be all 
over.” And, as he saw that Sara evidently didn’t like the turn the con- 
versation had taken, he went on to tell her, as he bathed his forehead 
with eau de Cologne, how the best thing he could do would be to get a 
broom, and sweep a crossing, or get a situation with some of his friends 
as footman ; and concluded by requesting Sara to write a note to her 
ladyship, stating, that he had not yet returned home from a very import- 
ant consultation he had that evening at his chambers, but that, as soon 
as he did, the letter should be given to him, and an answer sent. 

Without deigning an answer, the lady obeyed, and filled a sheet of 
cream-laid, at the rate of two words in a line ; and immediately after- 
ward, seeing that her Wellesley was in one of his nasty, melancholy fits, 
she was seized with a sudden headache, which enabled her to effect an 
honorable retreat from the misery that Nicholls was deahng out so plenti- 
fully to herself and children. 

The next morning the young barrister was awake with the sparrows, 
thinking to himself how on earth he could get out of this new opera-box 
scrape, with any thing like success. The very idea of asking a favor 
of Lady Verulam, after that decided cut in the Park, was gall and worm- 
wood to his pride, and yet the jeweler with his writ was almost as 
bitter a draught. To be sure, the fellow could not do any thing until 
next term, so that, even if he did not pay “ the villain,” he needn’t be 
in the least fear for at least two months to come. Besides, to be poor 
and appear poor was the very deuce, and he knew very well, that old 

60 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


rouged dowager would take very good care to let every one know about 
the accursed box ; so perhaps it would be better to pay her, and run the 
chance with the jeweler. 

That morning an answer filled with apologies and bank notes was 
dismissed off to her ladyship ; and by the evening, under the shelter of 
Long Vacation, every trouble was forgotten, and Mr. Wellesley, for a 
wonder, found his dinner excellent, the coffee capital, and his wife de- 
lightful — a thing he had not done for months past. Indeed, every day 
Mr. Nicholls seemed to gain better and better health and spirits. He 
began to pay attention both to his dress and to Mrs. Nicholls, and even 
once took the children out for a walk. 

Then, too, the great pigeon-match was coming off, and the young bar- 
rister had to go down to the Red House every day to see Lively Harry 
practice. Of course, it would never do to go down to such a sporting 
place in a black coat, dressed like a gentleman, so he had a splendid 
shooting jacket made, with ten pockets, the buttons very low behind, 
and a pair of cord trowsers that fitted as tight to the legs as bandages, 
and made him look very like a publican. It is true, this made a good 
hole in the money he had put aside for the butter-man, but then there 
was a very good chance of winning twenty-five pounds, and if one 
goes to the Red House, why one must do as the Red House does. 
Besides, it was capital fun down there. Lord Cressey was such a nice 
fellow, and used to sit chatting with him all day long, drinking his 
Champagne and smoking his cigars, just as if Nicholls had been one of 
the Guards. The worst of it was, the Champagne was rather expensive ; 
but then his lordship once walked home with him all down Bond-street, 
and eveiy one kept looking at them in a way that was surely worth a 
few bottles of Champagne. 

The only thing that disturbed him in any way was Mrs. Wellesley 
Nicholls’s disgraceful conduct. If he came home at all late, there he was 
sure to find her sitting up alone and looking as if she was being killed. 
At last, however, he got over the morbid sentiment of the thing, for 
Lord Cressey told him’ it was just the same with his “ little woman” at 
first, but that he very soon knocked the mopes out of her by never 
coming home at all. The only way, his lordship said, was to show ’em 
that there was no green about you, and swear at ’em a bit; adding, “the 
women like you all the better for it afterward,” and concluding by prov- 
ing to the doubtful Nicholls how this conduct had cemented the love 
between himself and Lady Cressey. 

At last the day arrived that was to decide whether Nicholls was to 
lose his twenty-five pounds or not. Lively Harry had promised to 
breakfast with him, and they were both to go down to the Red House 
together. At last he came, full of news and spirits, with his own gun, 
and, as usual, very thirsty. 

For the last week or two, Nicholls had got into the habit of never 
drinking any thing but bitter ale for breakfast. Sara was, of course, 
thoroughly disgusted with such conduct, and had spoken rather strongly 
on the point. But Nicholls had tried Lord Cressey’s plan of “ swearing 

61 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


at ’em a bit and it certainly Jiad quieted her, for she had never break- 
fasted with him since. 

Before Nicholls could eat a mouthful he insisted upon seeing the gun. 
He didn’t know much about guns, but it would never have done for him, 
in his sporting character, to have passed one by quietly. So he had the 
gun out, and for about ten minutes did nothing but raise it to his shouf 
der and take aims at the canary-bird ; nor would he leave it until all his 
questionings, as to it’s being a “ twisted barrel,” and “ whether it wasn’t 
rather long in the stock,” and “ a beautiful riser,” had been satisfactorily 
answered. 

During the breakfast, Nicholls told a long story of his uncle, “ who 
had mch a wonderful gun, sir,” that he had bought for fifteen shillings, 
and would not part with it for fifty pounds ; until at last, what with the 
guns and the bitter ale, when it was time to start, it was rather doubt- 
ful if either of them would prove the “steady shots” they boasted them 
selves to be. 

When they reached the grounds, all was bustle. Every body looked 
very much like omnibus cads, and every body was offering to bet every 
body. In a very few minutes Nicholls had taken so many “ twos to 
ones” and “ ones to twos” that he didn’t exactly know whether, in case 
every thing went right, he should be a winner or a loser. However, it 
would never do for him, as a sporting character, to confess his ignorance 
on the point, so he tried to look pleased and knowing. 

The firing was beautiful. Up went the birds, off went the guns, and 
down came the birds. It was very doubtful who would lose. At last. 
Lively Harry, somehow or other, missed. He was certain he hit his 
pigeon — that he could swear to, and he had never seen such an extraor- 
dinary thing in all his life. Nicholls, of course, said it was very extra- 
ordinary, and began to feel any thing but certain that “ the young muff, 
who had been cockering himself up with the idea that he was a crack 
shot,” M^ouldn’t pocket his five-and-twenty pounds, after all. 

And so it turned out. Every body told Nicholls they had never seen 
Lively Harry shoot so badly ; but, as they had nearly all been betting 
against him, it struck the barrister as being very curious indeed. 

What cut him to the quick, too, was, that every body — imagining 
him to be such a wealthy man — kept telling him that the loss was only 
a flea-bite to such a man as he was. Lord Cressey, too, offered to double 
the stakes, and get up another match, saying it was only fair to give 
Lively Harry another chance. 

With the bettings, Nicholls came off rather better ; he only lost eight 
pounds ; and, as he luckily had the money with him ; he paid it on the 
spot — and so thank God ! his honor could not be doubted. 

As he neared his home, Nicholls grew more and more unwilling to 
face his wife. He knew what the first question would be, and, after 
what she had said to him on the subject, he felt how difficult it would 
be to tell her, with any credit to himself, that the result she had foretold 
had come to pass. Luckily, however, his wife was out ; and Nicholls, 
delighted at escaping so easily, rushed up-stairs, and, locking the door. 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


threw himself on the hed, to think over the tale he was to tell her. 
As he lay there, he could not help calling to mind the strange part he 
had for the last month been acting. What had he gained ? What had 
he been working for ? He had been forcing himself among the society 
of men whose tastes and habits were directly opposed to his own. He 
had worked hard to make the ruin that was hanging over him doubly 
certain. He had even turned his own house against himself, and had 
driven his very wife from him — and what for ? Merely that the world 
might see him shaking the hand of a lord, who, did he but know the misery 
he sought to hide, would be the first to turn from and spit upon him. Then 
he vowed to himself, that henceforth he would snap his fingers at the 
world ; and, as soon as ever he could set his affairs a little bit in order, 
he would start upon quite a new principle altogether. 

At five o’clock Mrs. Nicholls returned home, and at half-past five an 
affecting scene took place in the back parlor ; in which Mr. Nicholls, 
calling himself a scoundrel and a villain, on his “bended knees” begged 
of his dear Sara to forgive him for his harsh and cruel conduct to her of 
late. Then sobs were heard, and, after sobs, kisses ; and both parties, 
when they came out, had very red faces, and were both blowing their 
noses, so as to cover as much as possible of the countenance. 

After dinner, Nicholls had his desk brought into the room, and Sara 
went up-stairs and returned with one long file full of bills delivered, and 
another very small one of bills receipted. And Nicholls set to work put- 
ting down on one side of a large sheet of foolscap, carefully ruled, and 
headed “ The Estate of Wellesley Nicholls, Esq.,” all the persons he was 
debtor to, and on the other, all the money he was credited by. When 
he had finished, it was astonishing to see how full one and how empty 
the other side of the account was. 

“ God bless me,” cried Nicholls, when the process of adding up had 
been gone through, “ I had no idea we owed so much, my dear. How- 
ever, there’s one comfort that we do know what we owe, and if we can 
only get a little time we will be all right yet.” 

But the great misfortune was that Mr. Nicholls was reckoning with- 
out his host of creditors; for no sooner was the Long Vacation over, 
than he was soon convinced, from the extraordinary pace in which sum- 
mons after summons was left at the house, that the jeweler was in no 
way inclined to lose the “ little time” Mr. Nicholls was so anxious to 
obtain. 

Then the half-crazy barrister saw that the only chance left him, by 
which to gain this time, was by entering a defense to the jewelers action, 
and contesting each step until his next quarterly check should arrive. 
So to work he went, denying “ that he was ever indebted” with the most 
expensive energy, and demanding for time to “ show cause” so repeatedly, 
that it seemed as if he were seeking to defer judgemnt until the judgment- 
day. 

One day, when Mr. Nicholls, full of joy at having obtained the last 
fortnight’s delay he should require, reached his house, he was much as- 
tonished at seeing congregated round his door-step a small crowd of boys, 

63 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


evidently much delighted at some strange scene that was being acted 
at his house. On the other side of the way, too, nearly all the windows 
that could command a good view of the proceedings were crowded with 
the heads of servants and families, who all seemed to be vastly enter- 
tained by the free exhibition that was going on at the Nicholls’s. 

As he owed nearly a year’s rent, the barrister at first thought it might 
be that scoundrel of a landlord (for Mr. Nicholls had lately got into the 
habit of calling all his creditors scoundrels or villains) squaring his ac- 
counts, and making his mind easy, by distraining upon his plate-basket. 

Considerably alarmed at the thought, he hurried on as quickly as he 
could, and pushing through the congregated boys, rushed into the hall. 
Then, as his eyes rested on a man with his apron fastened behind with 
an iron hook, the full misery of his position burst upon him. There 
stood the butter-man, his foot against the wdde-open street-door, his arms 
crossed d la Napoleon, haranguing the servants with a strength of lung 
that would have been invaluable in the electioneering or “ fine mackerel” 
line, but was heart-rending in the bosom of a peaceful family. 

“ Do it ! do it !” he shouted to the boy Parker, who had been ordered 
to turn him out. “ Do it, that’s all ! I want my money ! Give me 
my money ! I ain’t going to be swindled. Do you hear, I say ? I 
ain’t going to be swindled : you’ve eat my best Dorset, and now I want 
seven pounds eight shillings as I’ve worked hard for. Go and tell this 
to your master, as looks as if my butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth.” 
And he looked round him triumphantly, while the select audience on 
the reserved steps cheered him on to greater abuse. 

Nicholls, with his face as red as anchovy paste, hurried past the but- 
ter-man as quickly as possible, for fear, as he afterward said, lest he 
should disgrace himself by knocking the scoundrel down. 

“ Where’s your mistress, Parker 1” he asked, as he had safely reached 
the first step. 

“ Up-stairs, fainting, please sir,” was the answer ; and up-stairs Mr. 
Wellesley Nicholls rushed to supply a little mental smelling-salts, and see 
what on earth could be done to get that fellow out of the house. 

Mr. Nicholls’s treatment for a case of fainting was as new as it was 
successful. It consisted in dashing jugful after jugful of cold water 
in the face of the patient. At the first drenching Sara gave evident 
signs of returning consciousness, and just before the second was applied, 
she was so far recovered as to sit upright, and dart a withering look at 
her hydropathic husband. 

“ How much money have you got in the house 1” he asked, without 
the least show of sympathy. 

“ Twelve and sixpence.” 

“ My God !” And out of the room the wretched man darted. 

What on earth was he to do ? There was no chance of the fellow 
taking a bill at a month. He had nothing in the house that he could 
raise money upon, and there was no time to go to Lively Harry for an- 
other acceptance. The only chance he saw was, to conciliate the man 
by shifting all the blame on to his wife’s shoulders. Just then another 

64 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


shout of laughter came from the street, and Nicholls hurried down to do 
something or other. 



Trying to look as unconcerned and haughty as possible, he entered the 
parlor, and rang the bell violently, until Parker came to answer it. 

“Show that man in here, and then close, the street door,” was the 
order ; and, in a second or two, the butter-man entered, and the door 
slammed. “ May I ask the reason, sir, why you create this disturbance 
in my house, sir?” demanded Nicholls, with a look that can be imagined, 
but never, never described. 

Now that he had lost his audience, the man seemed some little bit 
awed into respect by the splendid furniture and the tremendous look. 
However, he very soon told all his grievances. Bill delivered eight times 
within two months ; called every day for the last fortnight ; every body 
E . 




THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


always out ; and, lastly, a bill to meet on the morrow, and must have 
his money. As Mr. Nicholls heard this, he gave, at each complaint, a 
sudden start, to prove how new all this was to him, and how much it 
took him by surprise. 

“ God bless me !” at last he cried, rising, “ why did not Mrs. Nicholls 
tell me of this ? ^ No wonder you should feel annoyed. Excuse flle for 
one minute, if you please,” he added, as he left the room, as the butter- 
man clearly saw, with the intention of saying a few words to his negli- 
gent wife. 

In a minute or two Nicholls returned. “ I find all you have said is - 
perfectly correct, and I can only say, I am very sorry for it. If I had 
known of it, it should not have happened. What is the amount of your 
bill?” 

“ Seven pound eight,” answered the butter-man, now as mild as his 
own bacon. 

“ Dear, dear ! I find I have only three or four pounds in the house,”, 
cried Nicholls, slightly magnifying the twelve and sixpence. “Would 
to-morrow suit you?” 

If you could give me a pound or^ two on account, I should feel very 
' much obliged, sir ?” 

The barrister was in a mess again. He thought for a moment, then 
replied, “ I could, but it would be very inconvenient. Let me see. If 
I give you a check, I suppose you couldn’t wait a fortnight. 

This very nearly set the butter-man off again. He declared he wouldn’t 
be made a fool of any longer — that he would advertise the whole pro- 
ceeding in the morrow’s Times — and threatened to do so many things, 
that at last Nicholls, after he had tried over and over again to conciliate 
him, once more rang the bell, and ordered Parker to show the man to 
the door, threatening, if he caused any further disturbance on his door-step, 
to give him in charge to the first policeman he saw. 

“ By Heaven I’ll work out that seven pounds of mine in a way you 
w'on’t like, my fine gentleman,” cried the man as he dashed his hat on 
his head ; “ you shan’t have the chance of swindling much more in this 
neighborhood, I can tell you. I know nearly every shop as you deals 
with, and I’ll bet a guinea you’ll have such a string of visitors to-mprrow 
as will spoil your night’s rest for you.” And, shaking his fist at Nicholls, 
who, white as sea-kale, was trying to look amused with the ruin the 
fellow was threatening, he darted down the door-steps into the road, 
where he was joined by one or two of his friends ; and, by their frequent 
pointings at the parlor window, it was evident they were the first to 
whom the story of Nicholls’s “ swindling” was being related. 

66 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


CHAPTER IX. 

From what took place on the morrow, it .seemed as if the butter-mau 
had been working like yeast, for the whole neighborhood seemed in a 
ferment. Knock after knock came to the door as fast as on boxing-day ; 
and Mrs. Nicholls, on looking out of her bedroom window, saw a small 
knot of creditors standing at the'' corner of the street, evidently discuss- 
ing the important question of her husband’s solvency. 

This was the most trying time Mr. Nicholls had ever had to contend 
with. He had no heart for the business. To add to his misery too, he 
had that morning had a few words with Mrs. Nicholls. Pie had insisted 
upon her seeing the tradesmen when they called, saying that it was part 
oi the housekeeping business. But the lady had declared she was far 
too unwell for such a trial ; adding, that it struck her as being highly 
indecent for a lady to interfere at all with a pack of men ; and, indeed, 
she had spoken so freely on the subject, that Nicholls had been forced to 
order her to her bedroom — a request the lady had complied with without 
a murmur. 

But the days of Nicholls’s fashionable life were not yet numbered. 
His good fortune once more reprieved him from the disgrace of being 
obliged to confess himself a poorer man than he profes^pd to be. The 
fact was, Mr. Nicholls had wasted all the morning in endeavoring to 
find out some excuse that should, nt the same time that it added to his 
glory, add to his credit also. But, despite the brandy he had put in his 
tea, and the hour and a half he had lolled away on the sofa, he could 
think of nothing in any way suited to the purpose. 

He was in this state when the first knock was shown into the room ; 
and so taken by surprise was he when half a yard of butcher’s bill was 
handed to him, that, scarce knowing what he was saying, Nicholls, for 
the first time in his life, truthfully explained the situation in which he 
stood. “In a fortnight’s time,” he added, “I expect a large sum of 
money to be paid into my banker’s, and then I shall have much pleasure 
in discharging not only your bill, but every one I may owe in the neigh- 
borhood.” 

To his surprise, the man seemed perfectly satisfied with this answer, 
and took his leave with so many apologies, that Nicholls, in his delight, 
even condescended to escort him to the door. 

Mrs. Nicholls, as she heard the street-door slam, had another peep 
from her window. She saw the man that had left, join the group at 
the lamp-post ; then followed another consultation ; and, finally, the 
whole party, with drawn bills, advanced to the house. Mrs. Nicholls 
flew to the smelling bottle. Her husband, too, gave a slight start as he 

67 



THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


“ He saw Parker enter with the waiter piled up with letter-looking bills !" 

but when the boy added that the gentlemen had all gone, and would 
call again in a fortnight’s time, Nicholls’s peace and color returned, and 
he flew up-stairs to Sara, to tell what a glorious victory he, single-handed, 
had gained over their much-dreaded enemies, who, armed with the full 
powers of the law, had come to storm him in his castle. 

“ There, didn’t I tell you you would be able to do it much better than 
I should, you dear, clever fellow ? Ah, you were made for a barrister, 
you rogue ; you can persuade one to do any thing, you can,” cried Sara, 
as she kissed him. 

“ Yes, you are always right, my poppet,” answered Nicholls, with a 
momentary pang at having let the woolsack slip through his idle fingers. 

68 


heard the second knock that was to summon him to happiness or the 
Palace Court. When he saw Parker enter with the waiter piled up 
with letter-looking bills, he thought he should have fallen to the ground ; 


LIVING FOR APP'E ARANCES. 


If the happy pair could have forgotten the jeweler, they would have 
been without a care. But those diamonds of the first water kept 
weighing on their minds with an hydraulic pressure that seemed likely 
to break the peace from them forever. Mrs. Nicholls had already dis- 
covered three gray hairs ; and Mr. Nicholls’s waistcoats were so loose 
that he could comfortably hear them buttoned after dinner. 

When the great settling-day came to hand, Mr. Nicholls, with the 
parental quarterly check duly changed into sovereigns, sat in state with 
his desk before him, in all the importance of a man who was ready to 
fulfill his promise to pay. As each tradesman was shown in, the amount 
of his bill, neatly folded up in paper of the purest coleur de rose was 
handed to him, and directly the receipt was signed he was dismissed with 
a glass of wine, and a neat speech, calculated to remove all ill-feeling 
that existed between them, and quiet all Mr. Nicholls’s fears as to “ all 
further favors being properly attended to” — a point on which his happi- 
ness and his dinners mainly depended for the next three months to come. 

No sooner was this important business settled, than Nicholls, cram- 
ming the remainder of the notes and money into his pocket, hurried to 
Lincoln’s Inn with all the speed of a one-horse power cab, to see whether 
he could not come to some arrangement in the case of Soane v. Nicholls. 

It was then that Mr. Nicholls, for the first time, felt how expensive a 
luxury law was, and he could not help passing several very severe re- 
marks — to himself — upon the great roguery of attorneys in general, and 
law-makers in particular. At first he had felt certain that he would 
be able to make almost any arrangement he liked ; every one was so 
civil, and he was ushered from one room to another in a way quite grati- 
fying to a defendant’s feelings. Presently he was left alone with a stout 
gentleman, all in plain black and white, like an act of Parliament, who 
bowed and smiled so condescendingly, that Nicholls, gaining courage, 
talked boldly of the settlement he was so anxious to make. 

At the magic word “ settlement,” a bill of costs, too thick to appear 
like a dream, was popped into Nicholls’s hands. As he turned over the 
pages and read a few of the “ To attending defendant on further post- 
ponement,” he saw with horror that the days’ upon days’ delay he had 
obtained had cost him as dearly as if they had been golden days. To 
complete his misery, too, all the offers he made to arrange were refused ; 
Messrs. Soane (no doubt, remembering the scene at the pawnbroker’s), 
being determined that nothing under debt and costs should wipe out all 
differences between them. 

“ I would give sixty pounds now, and the remainder in three months,” 
said Nicholls, with a supplicating look. 

“ Debt, one hundred and twenty ; costs, thirty-eight pounds, you see,” 
answered the lawyer, smiling, as he drew up his shoulders. 

So Nicholls jumped into his cab again, and, tired of the world, went 
home to let the partner oPhis joys and sorrows have her full share of 
his misery. 

In his affliction, the young barrister — ^not knowing what on earth to 
do — resolved to reform, to be prudent, and to save. For about the one- 

69 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


hundredth time, he swore to tear himself away from Almack’s and Ken- 
sington Gardens forever. He would change his name, live in some 
desirable residence, delightfully situated, a hundred miles from Lincoln’s 
Inn ; and there, with his wife and little ones around him, live the pru- 
dent and inexpensive life of a hermit, until his savings woul(L enable 
him to abuse that jeweler to his heart’s content. But, like old father 
Adam, he was doomed to lose the paradise he had dwelt in for the last 
ten minutes, through the folly of his wife — but with this difference : 
Eve used an apple ; Mrs. Nicholls a “ hop.” Quadrilles at nine. 

As Sara told him, the time for their party' had come round, and all 
she wished to know was, were they to give one that year or not. She 
didn’t want it. She would be only glad to get out of it. Last year it 
made her ill for a month ; in fact it was no pleasure to her. Of course, 
Nicholls, after his meditations on retrenchment, was dreadfully opposed 
to any thing of the kind. 

“ Very M^ell, my dear,” continued his wife, “ of course you know best. 
Only, after that disgraceful scene in the open street the other day, it 
will look very strange if, all at once, we drop giving our party. People 
will talk, Wellesley, and it struck me that it would be an excellent op- 
portunity of contradicting all the nasty reports that are abroad — espe- 
cially as our credit is so good just now. Nobody loves economy more 
than I do, my love ; but then persons shouldn’t go to balls if they are 
not going to give balls in return, dearest.” 

For three days the husband withstood the constant attacks of his 
wife. Sara, however, nothing daunted, besieged him so closely, aimed 
her “ball” so truly, cut short the provisions so dextrously, and dealt out 
the destruction of their fashionable life so murderously, that at last 
Nicholls was forced to surrender, on condition that his ready money 
should be spared. So the day was fixed, scented paper bought, and in- 
vitations sent. 

Nobody to have seen the bustle and splendor that had suddenly 
broken out at the Nicholls’ s, would have for one moment imagined that 
they had ever known what it was to want a ten-pound note. Chande- 
liers, sofas, and ottomans were uncovered, carpets taken up, and rout 
seats being taken in. The drawing-room redolent with geraniums and 
roses, the hall perfumed with jellies, custards, and pasties. Pastry-cooks 
flitted in and out of the passage, and there wasn’t a house on the ter- 
race that didn’t know there was going to be a party at No. 10. 

One morning when Mr. and Mrs. Nicholls were deep in a consultation 
as to whether they should have a cornet-a-piston on the important even- 
ing, a young gentleman from Lincoln’s Inn begged to be allowed to say 
a few words in that case of Soane v. Nicholls. It was merely to serve 
a notice of trial on the defendant, and to state that the cause stood second 
on the list for the morrow. 

Nicholls was so knocked down by this hedvy blow that Sara became 
quite alarmed. If he had raved, and stamped, and sworn, she would 
not have cared so much ; but to see him sitting all day long in his arm- 
chair, without speaking a single word or eating a single thing, nearly 

70 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


drove her mad. Half a dozen times she tried to rouse him, and failed. 
She had brought him jellies and he had refused them. In fact, Wel- 
lesley was quite heart-broken. He knew that he had no chance in 
court — that it would even be madness to defend — and that in less than 
a week his very bed might be taken from him, to pay for those “pre- 
cious stones” that had so completely paved his road to ruin. 

On the morrow — the day of trial — he never stirred from home. He 
could almost tell the moment when his case came on ; and so great was 
his curiosity at one time to hear what was said, that, unable to resist the 
temptation, he had dressed himself to go out ; but when the time for 
starting came, the fear lest his pawning the diamonds should be exposed, 
kept him within doors. Half stupefied with his grief, he moped away 
the whole day, thinking to himself how long it would be before the 
furniture it had taken him so much pains to get together would be sold, 
and he and all his family be turned, perhaps at a moment’s warning, 
into the streets. 

In this dilemma, the only chance of safety he could see was in his 
father. He thought that if Sara were to write to the old man, telling 
him faithfully all that had happened, and how bitterly he had suffered 
for his folly, perhaps he might be moved to pity, and lend him the means 
of turning aside the dreadful results of his extravagance. 

So he had Sara into the room, and dictated to her the letter that 
was to restore or ruin him ; and when it was finished, for fear that any 
accident should take place, he himself posted it. 

At breakfast next morning Nicholls sent out for all the morning 
papers, and made his wife look them over, to see if the dreaded exposure 
had taken place or not. He would have done it himself, but he was 
sick with fear, and his pale cheek and shaking hand told the agony he 
was suffering. So he sat shivering over the fire, listening to the rust- 
ling of the papers, and trying to read in the expression of his wife’s 
face whether the world had been made acquainted with the diamond 
transaction or not. 

“ Make haste!” he said at last, almost savagely in his impatience. 

“ I can’t see any thing in either the Times or the Chronicle,'' an- 
swered his wife, sharply. 

“ Thank God !” cried Nicholls, gaining fresh strength as his hope re- 
turned. “ Look in the other.” 

“ Nothing here either,” was the reply ; and the last paper is taken 
up. “ Here is something,” she said at last in a tone that made her 
husband madly snatch the sheet from her hand. 

But in another moment he jerked the paper from him, and as he al- 
most danced for joy, cried, “ Heaven be praised that I didn’t defend ! 
If I had only thought for one moment, there could be no evidence if 
there was no defense. I may be able to manage it all yet, and I will 
too, if I have to rob for the money.” 

All their hopes now were centered in the answer Sir Giles would send 
them. Nicholls went into a calculation to see the shortest time by 
which a reply could possibly reach them. He proved very clearly to 

71 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


Sara that the old gentleman was certain to send them the money, and 
had even arranged his short speech expressive of his feeling of disgust 
that he would oblige the Messrs. Soane with when he discharged their 
debt. All fear had vanished, and a hint at a disappointment would 
have been laughed down, like Dr. Dee’s great London earthquake 
prophecy. , * 

Had Nicholls been an Encke, he could not have foretold with greater 
precision the exact day when the post-office Mercury, in describing his 
circle, would come within the attraction of the street-knocker ; for, at 
the moment specified, came the parental answer, and with it the com- 
plete destruction of the airy castles the unfortunate barrister had lately 
been reveling in. His father, instead of pitying, only abused him for 
his extravagance. He hoped it would be a good lesson to him ; and 
even went so far as to say that, if his son couldn’t manage to keep out 
of debt with £500 a year, he would see what he could do with just 
enough to prevent his going to the workhouse. 

As if paralyzed by this last misfortune, Nicholls lost all energy or" 
wish to save himself. Shut up in his dressing-room he waited quietly 
for the ruin and disgrace his creditors were preparing for him. Like a 
wretched criminal, he sat counting the minutes before the execution 
should take place. Sara, alarmed at the despair she saw in her hus- 
band’s conduct, placed safely under lock and key all his razors ; and 
fearful lest in his sorrow, he should do some rash deed, she watched him 
narrowly, never even permitting him to leave his room unless she was 
by his side. Nor would she allow any thing to be said or given to him 
that might in any way irritate him or add to his sufferings. All the law 
notices that came to the house she herself took and locked up, so that 
her husband might not be worried by them. But poor Mrs. Nicholls 
might have spared herself all this useless trouble. Her Wellesley was 
by far too fond of this world to think of leaving it before he was turned 
out. The very notion of a coroner’s inquest, and a burial at midnight 
at cross roads, was sufficient to prevent him from injuring himself either 
by word or deed. Besides, there was the party coming off in a day or 
two, and a pretty thing it would be to have that bungling Parker telling 
the visitors as they came to the door, that “the party was put off, ’cos 
master had killed himself.” 

What surprised him more than any thing else was the apparentlv ex- 
treme lenity of the victorious jeweler. Sara’s zeal had kept from* him 
all the law, papers ; and he, from not seeing them, imagined that his 
enemies, tired of conquest, were resting awhile -upon their writs. His 
doubts, however, were soon dispelled by the sudden appearance of a 
certain gentleman who, in the name of Sloman, demanded admittance 
for himself and three shillings a day, and the use of the drawing-room 
for his follower, in so imperative a manner that Nicholls felt convinced 
it was useless resisting a man armed with the law, and standing six feet 
three in his bluchers. 

While Nicholls was yet talking to the men in the hall, the pastry- 
cook, followed by two barley-sugar bird-cages and a pound-cake elephant, 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


entered. In his alarm, lest his visitors should be recognized, Nicholls 
immediately hurried them into the parlor, where the table and sideboard 
were loaded with the plate, epergnes, and candelabra Nicholls had 
hired, to add to the supper-table effect. In an instant, one of the men, 
pulling out a small dirty memorandum-book, commenced making a list 
of the different articles ; while the other, in a most impressive legal 
way, warned Nicholls of the penalties he would incur if a single article 
was removed from the house. 

This was more than Nicholls could endure. Calling to Sara, who 
was busy in the drawing-room, that she was wanted in the parlor, he 
seized his hat and hurried out of the house. He now determined that, 
come what might, he would relinquish his former vow of having nothing 
more to do with bills, and once more fly to the money-lenders for help. 
It was just two o’clock, the time when Lively Harry always went to 
the club to read the papers and get his letters. So Nicholls hurried 
down to him, and found him in his usual delightfully reckless state, 
wishing to oblige every body ; so that before two bottles of sherry and 
the last night’s debate had been discussed, the bill was drawn, accepted, 
and safely stowed away in Nicholls’s pocket-book. 

But it seemed as if the whole tribe of Israel was aware of the dread- 
ful state of the Nichollsonian finances. It was in vain he smiled, and 
complimented, for, at the very mention of Lively Harry’s name, they 
would decline, in the politest manner, having any thing at all to do 
with that gentleman. Only once Nicholls had a chance, but then he 
must have taken one-half the amount in green cotton umbrellas — a 
thing that seemed to him to be providing too plentifully against a rainy 
day. 

Nearly driven to his wit’s end, it at last struck Nicholls that, perhaps, 
they would be better pleased if they saw the name of Reuben Marsh in 
place of Henry Chandos, so he hurried back to the office of the most 
moderate of his discounting capitalists— a gentleman who only wanted 
what was fair, and never charged more than five-and-twenty per cent. 
— and was delighted to find how just all his suppositions were. The 
name of Reuben Marsh was agreed upon ; and Nicholls, bounding into 
the street, as light as a Jew’s pound weight, hurried home for his car- 
pet-bag, that he might lose no time in getting down to Farnham. 

Although the day was nearly gone, still Nicholls insisted on starting 
immediately. It was much better, thought he, to have this business 
settled at once, and get the worry and bother of it off’ his mind. 

73 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


CHAPTEK X. 

The thought had never for one moment entered the barrister’s head 
that Reuben might refuse to oblige him. The way in M'hich he had 
almost forced the loan of one hundred pounds upon him, was to him a 
proof that the poor, ignorant country farmer would be delighted to serve 
his dashing brother-in-law. It was only when Nicholls was within a 
mile or two of Reuben’s house that he saw there might be any difficulty 
in the case. The nearer he got to his destination, the faster and faster 
the difficulties seemed to rise. In fact, at last he thought the whole 
journey to be so useless, that he had almost determined on returning to 
town, and so avoid the unpleasant wound his vanity would receive 
should his brother-in-law refuse the request he almost considered 'it an 
honor to make to him. But the vision of that man in the parlor, and 
the thoughts of the evening party, were so dreadful, that he felt that, as 
a husband and a father, he ought not to leave a single stone unturned, 
though a Stonehenge should stop the way. 

Directly Reuben saw his brother-in-law advancing to the house, pick- 
ing his way, tip-toe, among the straw and litter of the farm-yard, his 
whole attention centered on his polished leather boots, he pretty nearly 
guessed the cause that had brought him to Farnham. 

“ Hollo, missus, here be Nicholls again,” he cried to his wife, as he 
laid down his pipe, and snatched up his broad hat. “ Sally maun be a 
rare lass for mil’nery. Dang it, he be frowning uncommon tight. Ho, 
Nicholls ! be Sally with you ?” 

Nicholls, who well knew that the simple farmer’s shrewdness would 
at once penetrate the object of his coming, if he again gave the coun- 
terfeit of pleasure to a mere business visit, had determined to play, for a 
change, an open part with him, and to tell him at once, and without 
needless preface, the object of his journey. So the young barrister did 
not disguise the looks of deep anxiety natural to his circumstances, and 
pressed the horny hands of his brother-in-law with a convulsive grasp. 

“ My dear, dear Reuben, I am glad to see you looking so well,” said 
Nicholls, with a sigh like the boiling of a kettle. Then, as his down- 
cast eyes rested on the splashes upon his boots, he added, “ It’s a wicked 
world, Reuben, but I’m glad to see you looking so well.” 

“ And I be fidgety to see thee here with that face, like veal, it be so 
white. Come along in : my missus is all of a flurry to see thee here 
again, without a word of writing or nothing.” 

“ It’s but a flying visit. I haven’t a moment to spare ; and — and I 
come on important business, Reuben,” continued Nicholls, nervously, as 
he followed “ that clodhopper” of a brother-in-law into his farm-house 

74 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


Reuben’s missus did not receive Nicholls with any show of warmth. 
Too simple to mimic what she did not feel, and too shrewd to be blind 
to the terms on which she was patronized by her rich connections, she 
spoke abruptly to the friend of Lady Verulam, and then turned again to 
the stocking she was knitting. 

Reuben and Nicholls sat down, and an awkward pause ensued, for 
each party could read the feelings of the other. Nicholls moved about 
on his seat, cleared his throat, adjusted his collar, and remarked on the 
failure^ of the barley crops, while Reuben eyed him, not with an ill- 
natured expression exactly, buf with a look of mingled curiosity and 
pity, for he felt for the struggle which he could read in the bosom of his 
would-be rich relation, who was a second time a petitioner for his 
bounty. And then Reuben’s thoughts wandered back to the drawing- 
room of the St. John’s- wood house ; he remembered his sister’s icy 
decorum, and the frigidity that had made him prefer the sanded floor of 
a neighboring tavern to her rich carpeted room ; and, though he was a 
good-hearted, honest fellow, he could scarcely repress a chuckle when he 
called to mind the words he had whispered to Sally at parting, telling 
her that one^of these fine days she would be glad enough to find a quiet 
home with her uncouth brother. The verification of his prophecy was 
at hand, and he was secretly pleased (all men are delighted with success) 
that his forebodings were on the eve of realization. 

“ My dear Reuben,” said Nicholls suddenly (he had gained the mas- 
tery over himself by recollecting that the return train started in two 
hours, and there was no time to lose, and he ran on rapidly), “ I have 
come to ask you a great favor. I am at a loss to express how deeply 
sensible I remain of past favors ; how both myself and Sara, who, by 
the way, sends her love to you and your good lady and he smiled 
condescendingly at Molly, who worked then harder than ever. 

“ My missus is it thee means ?” interrupted Reuben, with a half 
chuckle. 

“ Yes. Well, my dear Reuben, I will confide in you. I am in a 
great difficulty, and have only come to you as a last resource. I have 
tried all other means, and failed.” 

Here Mr. Wellesley Nicholls paused, and gave another sigh, while 
Reuben, with an unmoved countenance, looked him full in the face, but 
spoke not a word. At last, with another effort, the gentleman turned 
upon his vulgar, ill-bred relation, and begged the loan of one hundred 
and sixty pounds, to save him from disgrace and ruin. 

When Reuben heard the amount required he gave a loud, shrill 
whistle, plunged his hands into his breeches pockets, and looked across 
at his spouse, who, turning to Mr. Nicholls, said, in a tone of cutting 
sarcasm — “ Be’t for mil’nery agin, eh?” and then went to work again 
at her stocking, with an ardor that threatened false stitches at every turn 
she took. 

“ Harkee,” said Reuben, after a pause, as he calmly proceeded to fill 
his pipe, and pour out a mug of ale for his visitor, ‘‘ Harkee, Nicholls, 
I be plain and blunt in all my dealin’s. I be rough in speech and man- 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


ners, but I ha’e pride, dang it, I ha’e ! Since thee left my roof, thee and 
thy wife and the babbies, not so much as a word ha’e we had from thee ; 
but directly thee be in a mess, Reuben Marsh been’t long in hearing from 
Muster Wellesley Nicholls, o’ Hyde-park, Last time thee only came 
here to hide theesel’ as a sort o’ runaway ; and I lent thee — with^all my 
heart, as my missus knows — lent thee a hundred' pounds out of my 
savings. Nicholls, I’d willingly do the like agin ; but I feel that I 
should be the ruin of thee. Sell the lumps of gold off the chairs and 
tables — make Sally dress becoming her degree — chuck away this, and 
this (and Reuben pointed to a diamond ring that glittered on Nicholls’s 
finger, and a massive gold chain which he wore about his neck), and 
then come and live in quiet somewhere hereabouts, and get out of debt ; 
if thee’lt do this, I’ll help thee to my last farthing ; but while thee hast 
all these expensive ways, which five hundred pounds won’t keep up, 
thee musn’t look for a stiver from Reuben Marsh. I can not forget that, 
up to this time, I ha’e been the tool of thee — not a friend. My hands 
are too hard — my missus’s arms are too red — we are too vulgar, to be the 
friends of thee and thy acquaintance ; so thee canst not stoop to be 
beholden to a poor farmer to keep thee in extravagancies. No, Muster 
Wellesley Nicholls, Reuben ’ll not lend a hundred and sixty pounds, 
once for all ; so don’t ask” — and he buried his red face in a huge glass 
of ale that stood beside him. 

Nicholls saw that neither argument nor persuasion would avail ; so 
he took a hasty leave of Mrs. Marsh, and strode through the farm-yard 
accompanied by Reuben Marsh. Not a word was exchanged as the 
two crossed the yard. Reuben called to a laborer to tether the cows 
safely, and to tell Tom that all the oats must be stacked before sunset, 
with what Nicholls called heartless unconcern. The rough, uncultivated 
Reuben Marsh, the unlettered, unpolished agriculturist, was, to tell the 
truth, striving to coneeal the emotion that swelled within him. He 
thought how unkindly Sally would take it when she heard that he had 
refused her husband’s request ; but then, again, he felt that he did all for 
the best, since sooner or later a crisis must come, and put an end to the 
reckless, gilded misery into which the Nichollses had fallen, and the 
sooner this took place the better. As they approached the high-road, 
Reuben broke the silence, saying : 

“ Thee mus’n’t misunderstand me, I would lend thee the money on 
one condition.” 

“ What’s that ?” asked Nicholls, eagerly catching at the chance. 

“ That thee leave matters in my hands, and come and live here, 
respectable in the country, and give up the folly which is taking thee, as 
quick as may be, to ruin.” 

“ Thank you, Mr. Reuben Marsh ; on such a condition I must decline 
the loan. Good-by.” 

“ Good-by,” said Reuben, seizing Nicholls’s hand, “ and remember to 
tell all I have said to Sally, and kiss her for me — and think on what I 
tell thee ; and when thee hast determined to come into the country, write 
a line, and thee’lt find a true friend in Reuben Marsh. Good-by.” 

76 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


The two parted. Reuben returned slowly to his farm, while Nicholls 
hurried forward in a nervous, agitated state of mind, that almost 
amounted to delirium. He called Reuben a graceless boor, a low plow- 
man ; and, in the depth of his misery, felt humbled and ashamed that 
he, the son of Sir Giles, had laid himself open to a refusal from a county 
clodhopper, who had the misfortune to be his wife’s brother. And then 
his mind reverted to the scene which he was approaching — to the 
gaudy house, crammed with dainties for a festival, guarded by a man in 
possession ! Even if he allowed the party to take place, he would not 
be the less disgraced ; for when the company called afterward to leave 
their cards, there would be bills headed “ Sale by order of the Sheriff” 
staring them full in the face from the door-posts. How Lady Verulam 
would have the laugh of them, too ! The pastry-cook, too ! would he 
leave the supper, if he saw the limb of the law snugly ensconced in the 
kitchen ? No ; he felt that he must either postpone the party altogether, 
and make a precipitate retreat, or in some way contrive to settle the 
matter. His heart whispered him to retreat from the fight at least 
with honor ; but the world beckoned him on to desperate alternatives. 
Irresolute, sick at heart, and reckless, he reached his home — a home 
that in that hour was a hell to him, and, on the morrow, was to contain 
one hundred and fifty people in holiday guise. He went straightway 
to Mrs. Nicholls’s boudoir, where he found that lady in a state of 
fashionable anxiety, with her mgid sprinkling eau-de-Cologne about 
the carpet because her mistress felt a little faint, and the rotund pro- 
portions of Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls enveloped in a purple satin robe 
negligee. 

“ That will do, Perkins,” said Mrs. Nicholls to the servant, as Mr. 
Nicholls entered the room ; “ you may go : shut the door. Well, my 
dear Wellesley, you have settled matters, I suppose.” 

“ Settled matters ! Yes, they are settled, depend upon that !” replied 
Nicholls, throwing himself into an ^asy chair, and rapping his knuckles 
with 'a quick, energetic movement. “Yes, you are quite right, Sara; 
matters are settled. You may advertise for a situation as governess or 
lady’s companion forthwith ! Your accomplished brother would see you 
starving, before he’d stretch forth his dirty hand to save you.” 

“ This is dreadful !” screamed Mrs. Nicholls, bursting into tears. 
“ How am I to put off the party ? My figured satin will be home in 
the morning ; the men are now laying out the supper-table — the supper 
is nearly all here. I have hired four of the most respectable green- 
grocers in the world, who will look as though they had been servants 
with us from our infancy ; the awning is put up over the door-steps. 
In short, every thing is ready. What will people think ? The Lord 
Chief Baron’s set, of course, will cut you ; and how you will be talked 
about at the clubs !” 

“ It can’t be helped ! Blame your own vulgar relations, not me,” 
answered Nicholls, sharply. 

“ Well, I’m sure ! None of the royal family happened to pass through 
Farnharn when my father was mayor of that town, certainly,” retorted 

77 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


the lady, with a hard thrust at Sir Giles, “ but I do not consider myself 
altogether dirt for all that.” 

“ Your vulgarity is worthy of you,” said Nicholls, his lip quivering 
and whitening with kindling rage, and rising to leave the roon^ 

“Don’t, for Heaven’s sake, let ws quarrel, Wellesley,” Mrs. Nicholls 
interposed, in a gentle voice. “ Can nothing ward ofi'the blow ? or aro 
we irretrievably disgraced ? Are we henceforth outcasts from society ? 
This is worth a struggle. Remember, dearest, if we once lose ton, life 
will be a barren waste to people of our refined ideas and habits.” With 
this, Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls threw herself back in her chair in a grace- ‘ 
fill attitude of grief, and, holding a handkerchief of the most delicate 
texture between her thumb and forefinger, dipped a corner into a scent- 
bowl that was on the table beside her, and gently, very gently, bathed 
her temples : it was an affecting sight. 

Nicholls sat there, and silently contemplated the majestic proportions, 
and delicate graceful hands of his wife. Could such a gentle, fragile 
creature be allowed to pass away her days, unseen and unappreciated, in 
the country? Was she not born to grace the circles of the noblest in 
the land? Was not he, too, the son of Sir Giles? Were not the 
shoulders of Mrs. Nicholls the envy of many ladies of distinction ? How 
slowly quarter-day came round, he thought. It was maddening to know 
that he should be ruined, when a little delay would make every thing 
smooth again. As his eye wandered listlessly about the room, it acci- 
dentally fell upon a letter from Reuben to Mrs. Nicholls, which she had 
not answered. He fixed his gaze upon it steadily and intently. 

Mrs. Nicholls rose and left him to his own reflections, convinced (for 
he was such a clever creature, and had passed so dextrously through the 
gravest difficulties) that he only needed reflection to fix upon a plan of 
deliverance from the clutches of the hateful jeweler. She had scarcely 
closed the door upon him when he seized Reuben’s huge letter, written 
in a huge round hand, trembling from guiding the plow, and placed it 
in his pocket. 

“ They’ll take the name of Reuben Marsh with pleasure,” he mut- 
tered to himself, as he hastily strode backward and forward in the room, 
“ and I shall receive the next quarter before it becomes due.” A smile 
burst upon the clouded brow of the young man. He had devised means 
of clearing himself from the jeweler ! Thank Heaven ! before the world 
he could still keep up the game the world imposes — he could, “ till 
further notice,” continue to perform the hypocrite. Mrs. Nicholls’s 
shoulders need not be thrown away upon vulgar people : they might still 
be the admiration of people of ton. 

In the course of an hour, a bill duly accepted by Reuben Marsh, and 
made payable at Farnham, was stowed in the iron chest of an ac- 
commodating Israelite, and Messrs. Soane and Co. received the amount 
of Mr. Nicholls’s debt, and by the evening Mr. Sloman’s protege was 
ejected from Mr. Nicholls’s superb drawing-room. The man in posses- 
sion had only been an inmate of Mr. Nicholls’s house a day ; but so 
acute were his feelings, that, on leaving, he could not refrain from telling 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


his host, as he pocketed his week’s pay, that he regretted parting with 
Mrs. Wellesley’s youngest born, inasmuch as the little dear was just 
beginning to know him. 

When Nicholls returned home from his final interview with Messrs. 
Soane and Co., he called for a bottle of brandy, sent for a young friend 
to smoke with him, and made himself extremely merry up to a late hour. 
As for Mrs. Nicholls, it was late enough before she got to bed. In the 
first place, she had to watch the servants while they washed the numbers 
off the furniture and plate, lest “ Lot 20” should be left on the back of 
a chair or in the corner of a glass, and be detected by the company on 
the following evening ; and, in the next place, all the things had been 
so disarranged by the “ disgusting wretches,” that it must take her some 
time to see them put in their proper places again. 

The evening of the party arrived ; and, by eleven o’clock, the rooms 
of Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls were as crowded as Gravesend on a fast-day. 
The shoulders of Mrs. Nicholls were never displayed to better advantage ; 
and Mr. Wellesley Nicholls was in the liveliest possible humor. He 
flew about the room ; now complimenting some hoary dowager on her 
youthful appearance — now telling some rouged grandmother that the 
heat of the room had given her quite a hectic flush. At supper, the 
sponge-cake elephant looked magnificent ; and the barley-sugar bird- 
cages elicited loud and continued admiration. 

Mr. Wellesley Nicholls was seated at the head of the supper-table, 
with the Hon. Mrs. Macbeth on his right, and Mrs. Major Calebash on 
his left. Nicholls was in a delirium of pleasure. He did not spare the 
wine ; and his conversation by degrees became more and more incohe- 
rent, and his laughter rang through the room, and was re-echoed in the 
drawing-room to the astonishment of the company, and to the complete 
disgust of the ladies. Poor Mrs. Nicholls’s shoulders crimsoned with 
shame to behold her lord and master commit himself in this manner. 
The company returned to the drawing-room, and dancing recommenced. 

Suddenly the doors were thrown open, the servant announced Mr. 
Isaac Isaacs, and a gentleman with scarcely any neck, a prodigious 
quantity of frill, and a rusty black coat, walked into the room. His 
iiair was plastered doMui as though he had recently emerged from a bath ; 
his fingers were covered with rings, and a huge brooch was attached to 
his neckcloth. 

“ Mr. Isaacs I” Mrs. Nicholls exclaimed. “ I don’t remember the 
name.” 

“ Vish ish your husband ? he knowsh me,” replied the strange visitor, 
with lips like a sea-shell, and whom the entire company were regarding 
with riveted attention. 

“ Wellesley, my dear,” said the hostess, addressing her husband, and 
imagining that the visitor must be some great city capitalist, “here is 
Mr. Isaacs. Pray introduce me.” 

“ With pleasure !” said poor Nicholls ; and not knowing, in his drunk- 
enness, what he did, he advanced toward the new-comer. 

“ Never mind introdushing,” replied Mr. Isaacs gallantly, “ my errand 

79 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


ish pure bushinesh.” And bending over Nicholls’s shoulder, he whis- 
pered in his ear, “We had better go to another room; I come from 
Mishter Hedards, apout te carpet, you knowsh ; I’ve got some writs, 
yer shee.” 

Fired by the wine, Nicholls’s indignation at the wary Jew’s cunning 
grew beyond his control. Nearly bursting with passion, he shouted, as 
he pointed to the door, “ Leave this house, fellow ! leave the house ! 
How dare you enter this room on such an errand ? Where’s Parker ?” 
and, as the boy appeared at the door as suddenly as if a spring had been 
touched, the barrister continued, “ Show this man the door.” 

“ Oh ! very well — very well — it doeshn’t matter a pit to me — not a 
pit,” answered Mr. Isaacs, nettled at finding his offer of secrecy so dis- 
dainfully refused. “Here’sh a copy of a writ, and here’sh te original,” 
and he presented the wretched host with a long paper slip, while he 
held a parchment one before his eyes. 



“ Here’sh a copy of a writ, and here’sh te original.” 
80 



LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


The whole room was in a commotion. The visitors had collected round 
NichoUs, and, half laughing, seemed to enjoy the sport of “ coming in at 
the death,” as some called it. One or two of the more stately mammas 
surrounded by their daughters, were already excusing their rapid flight 
to the pale Mrs. NichoUs ; and, in their politeness, begging of her not to 
imagine that this disagreeable little affair, or that disgusting Jew’s hor- 
rid, horrid conduct had driven them away — while inwardly they vowed 
that henceforth they were always “ out” to the Nichollses. 

When Mr. Isaacs had legally served two more “ razor strops,” as he 
called them, he bowed to the company, and advanced to the door. On 
the mat he stood for a moment, and, smiling at NichoUs, told him that 
there were two more “ shentlemen” waiting for him outside, adding that 
the servants would not believe they were invited to the party, and let 
them in, because, they said, corduroys were not full dress. With a 
graceful smile and bow, he requested to be informed whether he could 
deliver any message to them. 

The company tittered at the man’s impudence. NichoUs bit his lip 
and stamped his foot, and the lace-bound handkerchief feU from Sara’s 
hand as swooning she sank upon the ottoman. In less than half an 
hour the drawing-room was empty. One by one the visitors shook 
NichoUs by the hand, looking mournfully in his face, and assuring him 
of their undisguised sympathy. Many wished to heavens they could 
offer him any assistance, and regretted the event had not happened two 
days before, for then they had large sums of money lying by them that 
they did not know what to do with. 

But when once these generous men had passed the drawing-room 
door, NichoUs could hear the half-smothered chuckle, that gave the lie 
to all the offers they had made. No, it was fun to them. It would be 
talk for the next week to come. All the clubs would ring with the 
anecdote; and, as far as his darling world was concerned, he was 
henceforth a ruined man. 

So NichoUs, still half stupid with his drink, sat on one of his gay, 
amber-satined ottomans, listening to the laughter and loud talking in 
the haU. Then came the shouts of the linkmen, and the rattling of car- 
riages, and he could smeU the perfume of the cigars that had been lighted 
in the hall. 

At last all was silent, except the rattling of plates and spoons in the 
supper-room beneath. The writ had spirited all the friends away as 
though it had been a fairy’s wand. The “ strop” was a magic one. 

F 81 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLDj OR, 



CHAPTER XL 

When NichoUs awoke the next day, he found the shutters closed, 
Sara risen, and the clock at three. His head was on fire, and his 
tongue seemed thick and clung to his palate. He rang the bell, and 
his wife entered. As she opened the shutters, the dayhght shone full 
upon her pale face, and red, swollen eyes, and NichoUs half raised him- 
self in his bed with astonishment at this sudden change in her. But 
yesterday he had gazed upon her, her eyes brightened by excitement, 
her cheeks red with pleasure, and her figured satin gown clinging to her 
slender waist, and he had thought to himself he had never seen her look 
so well — ^no, not even on the day she first wore that black velvet gown 
he gave her. He had looked round the drawing-rooms, when they were 
most crowded, he had examined each belle with the nicest care, and had 
been forced to admit — despite of a slight tiff while dressing — that his 
Sara was the finest woman in the room. His heart had swelled with 
pride as he saw some of the “ men’’ — mustached exquisites, who knew 
every point of beauty in a woman, as though she were a horse — leaning 
against the door-posts, their eyes riveted upon his wife, evidently envy- 
ing the fate of her lucky husband. 

He could not call to mind the exact particulars of the scene that had 
taken place last night ; but he had a dim, confused notion that some- 
thing dreadful had occurred. Depressed with the excess of the wine he 
had taken, and annoyed at the strange appearance of his wife, he sank 
back on his pillow, too much in want of a little consolation himself to 
sympathize with her. 

Sara had evidently expected him to say something soothing. She 
stood for a moment near the bed. But not a word was spoken. At 
last she broke the silence. 

“ Will you have any thing ?” she asked, in an injured tone, as though 
a severe quarrel had taken place. 

“ Soda-water,” was the gruff and laconic reply. 

As NichoUs tossed about in his bed, he by degrees called to mind the 
writs he had been served with. One thought seemed always to rise be- 
fore him — that of the forgery upon Reuben. He remained almost mo- 
tionless, his eyes fixed on the window, repeating the act, and trying to 
recall the sequel of the scene he had figured in. He had not even the 
energy to rise, but lay turning and twisting the one thought of the forgery 
over in his mind, made almost torpid under the depression of his excesses. 
At last the daylight began to fade. The gas-light opposite the house 
was lit, and sent the reflection of the window on the ceiling. Then he 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


remembered the soda-water, and gaining a little energy from his rising 
passion, he seized the bell and rang it angrily. 

Sara, silent and sullen as before, entered the room. 

“ I told you to let me have some soda-water,” he cried, looking fiercely 
at her. 

“ I can’t get any,” was the reply. 

“Why?” 

“ Because there are three men waiting outside, and I’m afraid to let 
any one go out.” 



“ There are three men waiting outside, and I'm afraid to let any one go out.” 


The husband felt the force of the objection. He returned no answer, 
but remained still watching the reflection of the gas-lamp on the ceiling. 
Sara stood for an instant, without moving a limb ; but, the silence con- 

83 



THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


tinuing, she took her departure, closing the door as quietly as if she had 
quitted a sick-chamber. < 

About eight o’clock Mr. Nicholls came down to dinner. Even then 
he spoke as little as he possibly could. He stood with his coat-tails up, 
warming himself before the fire, his eyes fixed on one of the straw mats 
on the table. Sara thought to herself that he might as Well have made 
some slight apology for keeping the dinner waiting an hour ; hut, seeing 
him look so pale and wretched, she excused him. 

All dinner-time they remained silent. Any one would have imagined 
they had had a violent quarrel. The dinner was one to have pleased 
the most fastidious, hut still he would not thaw into conversation. The 
dishes — all of them the remains of the overnight’s revelry — were removed 
and replaced, the clatter of the plates, and knives, and forks sounding 
loudly in the room. The poor barrister was thinking of the miserable 
end all his silly dreams had come to. Each mouthful he ate had to be 
paid for. He had obtained it all by a means he dared not think of; had 
spent his money even before he could call it his own, to please his darling 
world ; and it was clear, by the last night’s scene, that it was not at all 
grateful for the sacrifice. He was cut to the quick with the failure. 
The disgrace stung him to the heart. “ What would they think of him V' 
he kept asking himself, not daring to drive any further into the question. 
At last he made an effort and spoke. 

“ How much wine did they drink last night ?” he asked. 

“ I don’t know,” answered his wife quickly, determined not to give in, 
but to let “ her gentleman” have all the conversation to himself, since 
he appeared to like quiet so much. 

“ Then I wish you would count the bottles,” continued Nicholls, glad 
of an excuse for finding fault ; “ what the deuce is the good of my trying 
to save expense, if you will keep no check upon the servants ?” 

Just then the pound-cake elephant was placed upon the table. It 
was uncut, and inspired Nicholls with a fresh subject for a noise. 

“ It really seems to me, Sara, that you wish to see me in the Gazetted 

“ I don’t understand you, sir,” was the dignified answer. 

Pointing with a fork to the elephant, he continued, “ Nonsense, ma- 
dam ; if you had thought for one moment, you would have known that 
the confectioner would have taken that cake back again. It is really 
no use for a man to strive, and — ” 

“ He wouldn’t. I asked him, and he only handed in his bill and de- 
manded his money,” returned Sara, interrupting him. 

Again they were silent, until Nicholls, warmed with his wine, began 
to lose his headache. Then he thought to himself, it would be much 
better to conciliate his wife. 

“ Do you think the servants know any thing about what happened 
last night, my dearV^ he asked Sara, in quite an altered tone. 

“ I don’t know,” was the unflinching reply. 

“There, dont let ws quarrel, Sara,” said Nicholls, taking her hand. 
“ I am miserable enough as it is. If you leave me, I won’t answer for 
the consequences and he gazed at the ceiling madly, in such a way 

84 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


that Sara grew quite alarmed, and fell upon his neck, clasping him to 
her. 

With his arm round her waist they stood before the fire, and he got 
his darling to tell him all that had taken place at the party. Then 
came the great question. How would it be possible for them to regain 
their standing in the world 1 

“ It is hard,” cried Nicholls, “ after all my strugglings, after all my 
batthngs with my creditors, after all the money, the frightful amount 
of money I’ve paid, to be knocked over in this way — it is hard. And, 
after all, I wouldn’t mind betting a thousand pounds — ” 

“ My dear !” cried Sara, expostulating. 

“ If I had it, my pet, I wouldn’t mind betting it, that nearly every 
one of those very people that cut us, are just in the very same state as 
I am in; but I’ll fight ’em all, I will.” 

“ How, dear — how ?” asked Sara, anxiously. 

“ I don’t know,” was the reply. “ I’ll get Lively Harry to say that 
he did it for a lark. If I could have paid the scoundrel, I shouldn’t 
have cared ; in fact, it would have looked all the better. Oh, curse 
the writs ! it drives me mad to think about them. Why didn’t I put 
off the party ?” he added, half musingly, as his thoughts still returned 
to the forged bill. “ Now all is lost. I am, indeed, a ruined man.” 

Sara did not interrupt him for some minutes. At last wishing to 
lead his thoughts away from the subject, she asked him, “ How, dear, 
did you ever manage to settle with the jeweler — you never told 
me?” 

Nicholls’s arm fell from her waist ; he clasped his forehead tightly, and 
bit his lip. Presently, as she repeated the question, he answered, in an 
angry voice, “ Women have no business with money matters.” 

“ I only wanted to know, my dear. I didn’t mean to ofiend you,” 
replied his wife, with all her woman’s curiosity alive on the subject. 

“ Never ask me again, then. I am going out. Get my hat,” stam- 
mered out Nicholls, not daring to remain in the house lest the secret 
should escape him. 

At this moment there was a knock at the door. His troubled mind 
immediately fancied that it might be some message on the same all- 
dreaded subject. 

“ Who’s there ?” he shouted. 

“ All right !” a man’s voice replied ; and a gentleman who had gain- 
ed admission on pressing family matters, tired of waiting below, advanc- 
ed without ceremony into the room, and handed to the unfortunate man 
a writ for sixty pounds, at the suit of Messrs. Cocker and Co., wine-mer- 
chants. Nicholls was so astounded and enraged that he could not speak, 
and Mrs. Nicholls was dumb with fright ; not a word, therefore, escape i 
from the pair, as the lawyer’s clerk, with a polite bow, hastened f um 
the room and quitted the house. 

This seemed to be the climax of the tragedy. Both (startled and con- 
founded with the unexpected blow) gazed mutely one at the otner. At 
last Nicholls, jumping from his seat, paced the room— cursing and swear- 

85 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


ing, and throwing his arms wildly about him. Sara, bursting into tears, 
sat in her chair, thinking of the contrast there was between her present 
gilded misery, and the happy home her girlhood had known at Reuben’s 
farm. The brother’s uncouth, yet honest warning rang in her ears ; and 
in her heart she wished she had listened to his counsels. 

“ It’s all up, now,” cried Nicholls. “ Hang the world ! — hang every 
thing ! Fool — ^idiot — fool that I have been ! The game’s lost. A pris- 
on — worse than a prison — (and he struck his forehead) — stares me in the 
face ! Oh, what a dear lesson it has taught me !” 

Suddenly turning to his wife, he added, in a tone almost of reproach, 
“ Sara, to-morrow we leave this cursed house. What there is, these 
vultures of the law may have. While I have yet my liberty, we must 
fly. Once let me be put in prison, and I am a degraded wretch for- 
ever. Even you would not dare to own me, and my children would be 
things to point at.” 

Unable to fathom the meaning of his mysterious words, Sara, startled 
from her own grief, looked inquiringly in his face, and saw, in the misery 
that it expressed, how the confession had been wrung from an agonized 
heart. 

“ Yes, Wellesley,” she cried, “let us leave this house, and, in quitting 
it, try and forget all our suflerings. We have but one friend in the 
world now — a friend that is true to us, I know, though, in our pride and 
folly, we spurned him from our door. Let us go to Reuben — there we 
shall meet with comfort and welcome.” 

“ It’s impossible !” shouted Nicholls — “ once for all, it’s impossible ! I 
w^ould a thousand times rather meet a prison than your brother;” and, 
flinging himself on the sofa, he buried his face in the cushion. 

At this moment a postman’s knock rang through the house. The 
barrister leapt to his feet again. “ Let them come !” he shouted ; “bring 
it up — ^let me know the worst at once, and put me out of this agony of 
suspense. What’s the lawyer’s name, and how much is it ?” 

As Parker tapped at the door, Mrs. Nicholls advanced to it, opening 
it only sufficiently to admit the boy’s arm. She was still afraid lest the 
servants should guess their miser}^ 

“Good heavens! it’s from Newcastle, and all in black,” she cried. 
“ Janet’s handwriting, too ! what can it mean ?” 

A ray of hope shone in Nicholls’s face as he snatched the letter from 
liis wife. Breaking the seal savagely, he devoured its contents, his wife 
standing close to him, impatiently waiting for the news. 

On the 21st instant, the very day of Nicholls’s memorable party. 
Sir Giles had breathed his last — as his daughter said, “without a 
groan.” 

As Mrs. Nicholls took out her white cambric handkerchief, her hus- 
band soliloquized, “ Poor old man ! poor old fellow !” and, having shaken 
his head three or four times, he added, “ Well, taking all in all, the dear 
old gentleman was better than many fathers. Really,” he continued, as 
the color returned to his cheeks, “ really, it seems as if a Providence was 
hanging over me. I declare, I am no sooner in a mess, than something 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


or other is sure to turn up to take me out of it. Poor old man ! By-the- 
by, tell Parker, my poppet, to look out my black clothes. Poor old man ! 
It’s no use grieving, my pet ; we must submit to the will of Providence 
— its ways are inscrutable, my love. See, I bear this heavy blow like 
a man.” 

“ It’s a sad, sad loss,” simpered Mrs, Nicholls from behind her hand- 
kerchief; “he was such a dear old gentleman !” 

“It’ll be^at least a fortnight before we can prove the will and touch 
the money,” said Nicholls, unconsciously revealing the current of his 
thoughts. Yet he was not an unfeeling man; but his distresses, and, 
his fear of the world, had deadened his heart, and made him for a long 
time past regard his father only as an interloper who stood between him 
and affluence. 

“I think my friend Cocker will be rather savage when he hears of 
this. That scoundrelly landlord, too, won’t be best pleased. Ah, this is 
sweet revenge ! Ha ! ha.” 

“ Hush ! Wellesley, dear,” interposed Mrs. Nicholls solemnly, as for a 
moment she removed her handkerchief. “ Hush ! — laughing while your 
father lies above ground in his coffin. What a sudden bereavement ! 
There’s scarcely any time to think of mourning. I wish I had not 
had my black velvet gown cut up for the children,” and she sobbed 
aloud. 

“Never mind, my dear,” said her husband, soothingly ; “don’t give 
way to this grief. Be comforted, and you shall have as many black 
velvet dresses as you like.” 

And when his wife, in answer, had kissed him, he told her that he 
was determined to write round to all his creditors, and tell them to send 
in their bills in a fortnight. “It will look so well,” he added “ to say 
that all who have any claims upon the estate of Wellesley Nicholls, 
Esquire, will be paid in full.” 

“ How shall we manage about the papers, my dear ? ” asked Sara ; 
“ of course^ you will have to insert the advertisements ?” 

“ Oh, I’U see to that,” answered the husband. “ All that it is neces- 
sary to state is that — that we sincerely regret him, and that the bereave- 
ment has plunged several distinguished families into mourning. That’s 
very easily done.” 

For an hour at least they sat planning the manner in which the 
father should be mourned, and they retrieve the disgrace they were so 
nearly sinking under. Nicholls begged of his wife not to think of the 
foolish words that had escaped from him in his grief, as only the wan- 
derings of a mind overstrained by long anxiety. The livery for the 
servants was fixed upon, the amount of the debts calculated, and a slight 
dispute as to whether black or white was most becoming to Mrs. 
Nicholls’s complexion amicably settled. 

The next train that started for Newcastle carried with it Mr. Wel- 
lesley Nicholls. 


87 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 

c 


CHAPTER XII. 

Themistocles Lodge was an old house modernized. It was not a 
very spacious building ; but it was large enough for the late knight and 
his accomplished daughter. The two pillars of the gate, which led by 
a carriage sweep to the front entrance, were each surmounted with a 
huge lion rampant ; and the trees which half hid the house from the 
intrusive gaze of the passers by, were carved in various grotesque shapes, 
and looked, for all the world, like so many chessmen carved by the hand 
of Nature — if indeed any one with a less vivid imagination than that of 
the late owner could believe that Nature would dehght in such whimsi- 
calities. Over the door the family coat-of-arms was stuccoed and painted 
in glaring blue, red, and yellow. Within the house all was tinsel and 
glitter; there was not a room which did not make the eyes ache 
with the daubs of red and yellow and gold that besmeared the furniture 
on all sides: wealth, not taste, it was very evident, reigned over the 
household. In the drawing-room you were struck, not with the grandeur 
of the apartment, hut with the heterogeneous mass of riches heaped up 
within that narrow space. 

In an upper front room there was a handsome coffin, surmounted with 
a magnificent stand of feathers, that seemed — so oppressive was their 
blackness when compared with the other articles in the room — to fill the 
apartment ; and beneath those feathers reposed the corpse of Sir Giles 
Nicholls, knight, and late county magistrate. Thank heaven ! he was 
about to be given to the worms respectably, and with all the pomp 
befitting his high station. In the bedroom farthest off from that in 
which the remains of her father lay (for she was too frightened to sleep 
in the room next to that in which his still ashes were packed for burial), 
Miss Janet was busily employed trying on her garb of woe, and taking 
particular pains to see that it exactly fitted her. When Mr. Nicholls 
arrived at the paternal residence, he really felt impressed with the 
solemnity of the scene ; and he thought, as he looked upon his father’s 
coffin, that there lay the remains of one who had, with but the most 
meager return of thanks on his part, been the source of all his enjoy- 
ments hitherto. On the morning of the funeral the friends of the late 
Sir Giles assembled in the drawing-room ; the undertakers busied them- 
selves putting crape round each visitor’s hat, and placing a huge pair 
of black gloves across the crown; the cake and wine were handed 
round by the head official, who begged of every body, in turn, to take a 
glass, for it would give them nerve to go through the trying scene that 
awaited them ; and at length a man thrust his head in at the door, and, 
in a gruff whisper, said, “Are you ready, sir]” Mr. Nicholls replied 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


that he was perfectly prepared, and in a few minutes the heavy tramp 
of men through the hall reminded the guests that the late owner was 
passing his threshold for the last time. It would be useless to detail to 
the fashionable reader the number of feathers and staff-bearers who 
marshaled the remains of Sir Giles to the church-yard. Every body 
knows what a respectable funeral is, and that of Sir Giles Nicholls 
certainly was very respectable. 

The will was in the hands of Mr. Dewpurt, attorney, of Newcastle. 
On the Monday after the solemn ceremony, this gentleman waited upon 
Mr. and Miss Nicholls, and read them the last will and testament of 
their departed parent. Miss Janet vowed, at first, that she was not suf- 
ficiently herself to go through such a trial of her nerves ; but, being en- 
couraged a little by her brother, she was induced to accompany him into 
the breakfast-parlor, where the attorney was seated. 

“ Come, my dear Janet,” said Mr. Nicholls, soothingly; “you will live 
with me, you know. It’s merely a matter of form, since my father had 
no relation in the world except myself — come.” And the brother and 
sister entered the breakfast-parlor, and seated themselves opposite Mr. 
Dewpurt and his clerk. 

“ I am afraid, Mr. Nicholls,” began Mr. Dewpurt, “ that you will be 
surprised at the disclosure which this parchment will make to you.” 

“ Proceed sir, proceed,” Mr. Nicholls replied, with a careless, con- 
temptuous tone, “ the nerves of gentlemen are at their own discretion.” 

Without further preface, Mr. Dewpurt proceeded, without attending 
either to punctuation or intonation, to disclose to Mr. Nicholls the ap- 
palling fact that Sir Giles had willed to Janet a sufficient sum to pur- 
chase for her an annuity of X150 ; after the payment of which, and the 
settlement of the deceased’s debts, the residue was to go to Wellesley 
Nicholls ! 

“ Now, sir,” said the lawyer, turning carelessly to Mr. Nicholls, “ after 
the purchasing of the annuity for Miss Nicholls, and the discharge of the 
debts of the lamented deceased, you must be aware that there will not 
be a patch or stick remaining. Your father stated, in justification of his 
will, that he had allowed you £500 a year for the last eleven years ; 
that he had given you a profession ; and that he did not despair of your 
talents.” 

“ I must leave for town to-night. You will arrange matters, I suppose, 
sir,” replied Mr. Nicholls, haughtily, his lip quivering with rage. 

“ Leave all to me, sir ; I will see to every thing : good morning. 
Come, Jeremiah.” Mr. Dewpurt, having bowed with infinite politeness 
to Miss Nicholls, departed, followed by his lean clerk. 

“ I am a beggar, Janet,” said Mr. Nicholls, trembling from head to 
foot : “ worse than a beggar ! ” 

“ You have your profession, Wellesley,” returned Miss Nicholls, quite 
calmly. 

“ Not worth a sixpence ! ” 

“ You see I can’t help you. I shall be barely able to furnish myself 
with necessaries out of such a pittance.” 

89 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OIJ, 


The brother and sister were fashionable people, felt a proper regard 
for one another, and parted very decorously — the sister having sighed 
“ What a pity ! ” when she heard that her brother was a ruined spend- 
thrift. 

Mr. Nicholls returned home, thinking by the way of the bill drawn 
on Reuben Marsh, and turning over in his mind the safest way to escape 
from the fangs of his formidable body of creditors. There would be no 
more quarterly remittances, for the old goose who dropped a golden egg 
four times a year for him was dead. 

When he was once safely ensconced in his house, he ordered it to be 
kept in a state of siege. Scouts were kept on the look-out from the back 
and front windows, and all provisions were taken in over the area rail- 
ings. 

“ It’s like Gibraltar,” said a seedy man to another outside ; “ I’ve 
been watching like a hawk for the last twenty days, and I’m hanged if 
a blue-bottle could have got in, while I’ve been on guard. Nicholls has 
never been seen ; but his wife is as vigilant as a cat. What irritates 
me over and above all is that varmint of a tiger, who keeps a putting 
his fingers to his nose over the kitchen blinds every time I takes a look 
down. Ecod, if I once comes within reach of that tight suit of his ! 
He looks like a ripe gooseberry in it : prick him, and it’s my belief he’d 
shrivel up like a bust India-rubber ball. Day and night I’m to watch 
now ; they mmt give in some time or another.” And with these saga- 
cious reflections the seedy individual ran his eyes from the garret to 
the kitchen windows, with the pride of one who anticipates a victory at 
hand. 

The state of the property of the late Sir Giles Nicholls had been publish- 
ed in the papers ; and, as a matter of course, had driven the creditors of 
Mr. Nicholls about his ears like a swarm of wasps. For twenty long 
days the family had supported the siege with tolerable cheerfulness. 
Mrs. Nicholls, who always carried her aqua-marines about with her, and de- 
clared she would part with them only with her life, had done her utmost 
to console the dejected Wellesley ; but he refused to be comforted, and 
never stirred from the back room. As day after day passed on, he be- 
came more and more gloomy, till at length, on the twentieth day (on the 
morrow the forgery on Reuben Marsh would be presented), he called his 
wife to him, locked the room door, and told her that he had a terrible dis- 
closure to make to her ; that, come what might, he had done all in the 
enthusiasm of his love for her ; that a prison of shame — perhaps a penal 
settlement — stared him in the face ; in short, that he had forged the ac- 
ceptance of her brother Reuben Marsh to pay for those accursed diamonds ! 
To faint, to weep, to blame, to forgive, and then to plan his deliverance, 
these were the stages through which Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls rapidly 
passed — pride first swelling at her heart — then love for him with whom 
she had struggled conquering her fear of the world. On the morrow 
morning she determined to go by the earliest conveyance to Farnham. 

On the day following this disclosure farmer Marsh was up and at work 
before six o’clock in the morning. His firm hand guided the plow 

90 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


through the earth to produce his wealth. Perspiration stood on his brow 
as he toiled on, hour after hour, and calculated the gains of his honest 
labor. About half past nine o’clock Molly came running into the field 



“A prison of shame — perhaps a penal settlement — stared him in the face.” 


with a paper in her hand, which, she said, a gentleman had just left for 
him, with a message, that he hoped, for the sake of Mr. Marsh, it would 
not be dishonored. Reuben took the paper, stopped his horses, and as 
he stood in the furrow which he had just made, read the notice to the 
effect that a bill of his acceptance for one hundred and fifty-eight pounds, 
drawn by Mr. Wellesley Nicholls, was due that day, before four o’clock, 
at Mr. Green’s, solicitor, Famham ! The blood mounted to Reuben’s 
face, as he read on ; he guessed the truth at once. 

“ Dang the rascal !” he exclaimed, at last, in a frenzy of passion. 
“ Thee be too hard — a bit too hard. Muster Nicholls. Molly, I lent my 
sister’s husband a hundred pounds wi’ a willing heart : I would ha’e 
lent him more, only I knew he was running a full gallop to ruin. Thee 
know’st, I told him so. Well, now look’ee here, he’s been and forged 

91 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLDj oft, 


my name, and I must pay one hundred and sixty pounds to-day, or let 
him be transported. He be a rogue, Molly — a rogue !” 

“ That he be,” replied Molly, her head shaking with indignation ; and 
wiU’ee spend our hard earnings on the like rogue ?” 

Without answering her, Reuben, with his eyes fixed on the letter, 
continued, “ It be enough to kill a man, that it be. I ha’e worked hard 
for the money ; I ha’e paid father’s o wings like an honest man, without 
receiving e’er a farthing from them. I ha’e lent un an hundred pounds ; 
and now” — and the farmer drew in his breath, and frowned till his face 
grew purple. Suddenly slapping his thigh, he muttered from between 
his teeth, “ I’ll see lawyer Green, and read Muster Wellesley Nicholls 
such a lesson Uke, that he’ll not forget to his dying day.” Shouting to 
one of the boys “ to run saddle the black horse,” the farmer hurried off, 
in spite of Molly’s entreaties to remember that “ the rogue were his own 
sister’s husband.” 

Reuben had not been long absent when a crazy cab drove up to the 
farm-yard gate, and a lady, elegantly dressed, alighted, paid the fare, and 
walked into the farm-house. About two hours then elapsed before 
Reuben again appeared in sight coming along the road at a slow, steady 
trot. The lady was at the door to meet him. 

“ Well, Sally, gal !” said Reuben, shaking his sister’s hand, and look- 
ing in her face with a cold, searching glance, “ this be a sad business.” 

“ Oh ! my poor, poor Wellesley !” said Mrs. Nicholls beseechingly. 

“ I ha’e just been telling Sally,” said Molly, advancing with a potato 
which she was scraping in one hand, “that there be no excuse for 
Muster Nicholls, and that thee’lt expose him before his fine friends.” 

“ Ah, that I will, and may be in a way he woan’t like !” rephed 
Reuben Marsh, warming again into a passion, and wiping his broad face 
with an acre of blue handkerchief. “ I tell thee, Sally — and dang it 
I’m a man of my word — I’ll to town to-night and expose Muster 
Nicholls ; it’ll be a lesson. Dang it — a hundred and fifty eight pounds ! 
I been’t a coiner !” 

“ In mercy, Reuben ; on my knees I beg forgiveness — it is all, all my 
fault,” cried Mrs. Wellesley Nicholls, falling on her knees on the sandy 
floor, and clasping the muddy gaiters of her “vulgar” relation. But she 
pleaded in vain, Reuben was resolute. 

At length, Molly, who with her apron to her eyes had been atten- 
tively watching the scene, drew close to her husband, and, taking his 
hand, added her entreaties to those of her weeping sister. The farmer 
still shook his head, with his eyes fixed upon the ceiling ; but it was 
easy to see that his stubbornness was thawing into pity. At length, 
when Molly spoke of the pretty babes, that only three months ago he 
used to play with — tossing them in the hay and riding them on his 
horse before him, and whose father he was now vowing to ruin Reu- 

ben was conquered. Tearing himself away from them, he paced the 
room nervously for a moment or two ; then stopping suddenly, he cried 
to his sister, who, with her face buried in her handkerchief, was still 
kneeling ; 


92 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


“ If I maun meddle in this, and save Muster Nicholls from being sent 
beyond the seas, theelt remain here, Sally, gal, while I go to Lunnun 
a,nd settle matters as I think best. Take off this satin and gold and 
silver, and be once more what SaUy was twelve years ago. I’ll send 
thee, gal, the babbies in the morning ; so good-by, and don’t fret. Give 
us a smack, Molly, thee’lt see Reuben to-morrow.” It was late in the 
evening when Reuben Marsh set out on horseback for London. 

Mr. Nicholls passed no very dehghtful day during the absence of his 
wife on a mission that was to decide his fate. As evening wore on, 
and Mrs. Nicholls did not return, and he saw by the “Railway Guide” 
that the last train must have been in some time, he became terrified, and 
he sat, his head clasped between his hands, in an agony of suspense. 
How was he to act ? If he remained there, he might be dragged forth 
on the morrow as a forger ! He paused for a time ; then with a shrug 
of the shoulders and an expression of intense anguish and disgust, he 
summoned Parker ; told hip to come in and lock the door, and began 
by telling the astonished lad that his services — his faithful services — 
should not go unrewarded. 

“ Thank’ee, sir,” said Parker, twitching his hair. 

He then told the boy it was necessary that he should escape from the 
house that night. Concealing from him as much as possible the cause 
of his flight, Nicholls, by means of a sovereign, at last bribed him into 
his plans. Parker was directed to watch from behind the drawing-room 
window curtains, until the back of the man mounting guard without 
was turned ; when, on a given signal, the barrister would rush from the 
house. The moments he had to spare were employed in writing a 
few words to his wife. Then hastily packing up, in one compartment of 
his carpet-bag, what few things might be necessary on Ids journey, 
Nicholls crammed the other with the most valuable pieces of his plate, 
and, taking what money he had, stood at the street-door, wrapped in a 
huge traveling cloak, with his hand on the latch, waiting for the boy’s 
signal. No sooner did he hear it than the door was opened, and a man 
half asleep, who had been lolling against one of the posts, fell across the 
threshold. In an instant the man started to his legs, and, seizing the 
cloak, shouted to his companions. 

Resistance was useless. A cab was quickly called, and the wretched 
man hurried into it. He did not speak a word, but shrunk up into an 
inconceivably small space, and there remained until he was summoned 
forth from his hiding-place as the cab stopped before a dirty, dingy 
house, whose windows were safely secured with massive bars, in one of 
the streets running out of Chancery-lane. The heavy door was quickly 
unbolted and unlocked ; in another minute he was ushered into a dim, 
ill-furnished apartment — the air foggy with tobacco-smoke — in which 
several unshorn and unwashed gentlemen sat. Some were playing 
cards, others lolling about the mantle-piece in deep discussion with those 
whose clean shirts and well-brushed hats told that they were visitors ; 
while a few, crouched in the corners, seemed to be in the utmost state 
of dejection. 


93 


THE FEAR OF THE WORLD; OR, 


The first thing the unfortunate barrister noticed, was that all the 
people in attendance had hook noses, thick lips, and, in speaking, 
always put v’s in the place of w’s, and he trembled to think how short 
a time his would last him. Nicholls was glad to make arange- 
ments for the night, and retire to a miserable, dirty little room, at the 
top of the house, the window of which was crossed with iron bars, and 
for which he was to pay five shillings per night. His reflections were 
certainly not of the liveliest description, though his bed companions were. 
He went to sleep, and, most probably, dreamt of having a log tied to one 
leg, the sponging-house, Mrs. Nicholls, and the jeweler. 

When Reuben Marsh arrived in town, he went direct to the house of 
his brother-in-law, and gave a loud knock. He was told from the area, 
that Mr. Nicholls had left, and had been seen in the custody of a shabby 
man, who had been skulking about the house for weeks. 

“ Dang it, the poor fellow’s trapped !” said Reuben to himself, as he 
walked away. His heart began to soften. He resolved to find Mr. 
Nicholls the next morning. Accordingly, early on the morrow of his 
arrival in town, Reuben Marsh proceeded to make inquiries on the 
subject of the probable whereabouts of the unfortunate young barrister ; 
but first he called at the house in Hyde Park, and dispatched the chil- 
dren to their mother at Famham. He was not long in finding out the 
object of his search. 

“Safe to find him snugly housed at Sloman’s, my good fellow,” 
replied the second individual whom he addressed, and to Sloman’s 
Reuben proceeded in a cab. 

“Be Mr. Wellesley Nicholls here]” asked Reuben, as he entered 
the house. 

“ It ishn’t very likely the shentelman vill go hout this morning,” was 
the pithy reply of the Israelite in attendance ; then, hallooing to some 
one in the passage, he continued “ Tell the shentelman tat came here 
yeshterday that tere ish a wisitor for him, and ax him if he’s in.” 

The honest farmer was soon led to the coffee-room, where he found 
the elegant Mr. Wellesley Nicholls sitting apart from the rest of the 
company, and presenting altogether a not very enviable spectacle. As 
his eye fell upon Reuben Marsh, he seemed to shrink, as the rabbit 
shrinks that is within the coil of the boa. 

Reuben advanced firmly toward his cowering relation ; and, without 
extending his hand, or by a frown showing anger, said at once in a calm 
tone “ Thee be in a nice mess, Nicholls.” 

“ Leave me to my doom,” faltered Mr. Nicholls ; “ I am dying with 
shame and grief : only be kind to Sara.” 

“ Look’ee,” answered Reuben, seating himself close to Mr. Nicholls, 
that he might not be heard by the company, “ thee hast played me a 
shabby trick, Mr. Nicholls. I refused to lend a hundred and sixty 
pounds, because I couldn’t afford it, but thee hast taken it out of my 
pocket to pay for gewgaws to be before the world at my expense.” 

“ You have taken up the bill ! Thank you, thank you, Reuben ; 
then I shall not be disgraced to the world.” 

94 


LIVING FOR APPEARANCES. 


“ Mistaken again. Mind, return to the world of fashion, or whatever 
people maun call it, and I tell every body of the mean trick Mister Wel- 
lesley Nicholls has served me. I’ll he silent only on one condition ; that 
thee and Sally live with me till thee canst show me thee hast money to 
spend in satins, and painted carriages, and the like.” 

“I am at your mercy : I obey,” said Mr. Nicholls, in a dejected tone 
of voice. 

,^10, “ Thee must first pass through the Insolvency Court,” said Reuben. 

“ What will our friends say V* 

“Friends? ha, ha!” retorted Reuben, laughing; “Fine friends they 
be ! Will one of them visit thee here ? They be rich ; why not write to 
them, Nicholls? 

Mr. Nicholls felt the force of the satire, and was ready to turn his 
back upon the world in fear of which he had so long lived. He went 
through the Insolvent Court, was reprimanded severely by the Commis- 
sioner for his extravagance, and retired to Farnham, where Mrs. Wel- 
lesley Nicholls might be often seen mending stockings, making puddings, 
washing her children, in short, doing many things that were not ton 
decidedly. As for Mr. Wellesley Nicholls, he in time became the 
partner of Mr. Green, of Farnham ; dug his garden with his own hand ; 
and if he hved in fear of the world, it was that its tinsel might not lead 
his children astray as it had led him. He and Reuben Marsh became 
fast friends ; and Reuben was proud of the convert he had made. Molly 
Marsh found an instructive companion in Sally Nicholls. The latter, 
though her pride softened down considerably, could never forget how 
much her shoulders were admired by the elite of London. 

95 


THE END. 




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